The Ninth Traveler
by Terron145
Summary: A newcomer arrives at the continent of Orsterra, hailing from a land as unknown to the denizens as it is distant. A chance encounter with a young scholar intent on saving the life of her beloved professor sets this wanderer on an unprecedented adventure. He will meet stalwart allies during his travels, ones he will need to aid in turn.
1. Shiro, the Wanderer

Story Notes: _This story intends to cover much of the game's over-arcing narrative, so a general spoiler warning, one that is all-encompassing, is in effect. For those who want specifics concerning any immediately pressing spoilers, the early points of this tale will cover Cyrus' Chapter 3 and H'aanit's Chapter 2. To give you an idea of what to expect from this narrative, you will see many attempts at world-building, particularly through endeavors to explain how game mechanics work in-universe. Rated 'T' primarily for descriptions of violence, though the sensitive topics of both depression and suicide will also be touched upon as the story progresses._

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 **Chapter 1: Shiro, the Wanderer**

A warm day sporting a cool breeze graces the city of Atlasdam within the Flatlands of Orsterra. A myriad of young students garbed in scholarly robes can be observed making their rounds about the city, carrying with them all manner of supplies ranging from tomes to simple stationery. One such scholar, a young woman of 18, is at present divorced from the bustle of her colleagues. Though likewise making her own rounds through the commercial district of the city, she does not boast the same air of urgency as her peers; she moves at a brisk pace, though the serious look in her green eyes suggests that she is burdened with some matter of import.

A stiff breeze finds itself blowing through the somewhat cluttered collection of buildings composing the street through which she walks, sending the young woman's platinum blonde hair into minor disarray. She is quick to straighten this out, returning her hair to its rightful place behind her back while also adjusting the horizontal braid that wraps around the back of her head. Her white scholarly robe is managed in turn, as is the blue cape draped around her shoulders. She takes a look through her belongings to make sure nothing was blown away by the gust that has now passed. She sighs in relief as it becomes clear that her belongings fared the winds better than she did. With herself secure, she continues her trek.

Having purchased a collection of medicine and various healing salves, she nods to herself, satisfied with her preparations. ' _With this, I'm ready to search for Professor Albright._ ' Just as she prepares to set off, a male individual passes her by, drawing her attention for a few reasons. A head topped with messy disheveled hair caused her gaze to shift; though this hair appears black at first glance, the light of the sun beams down upon the man in such a way that it reveals his hair is actually brown. ' _Wait, was that…_ ' Her stunned countenance allows the man a moment to gain some distance before she calls out to him. "Professor Albright?"

The man continues to walk, yielding no response. An older man elects to call out to this stranger in turn, suggesting familiarity as he chooses to use a given name. "Are you lost in thought again, Cyrus? Therese just called out to you!" The man turns around, revealing more of his features. "Hold a moment…you're not Albright."

Standing before them is a young man of 21 years garbed in a primarily black kimono sporting white and navy blue accents. A black sash is tied around his waist, with a katana resting at his side. Neither Therese nor the scholar who stepped up to her aid recognizes these garments, nor are they familiar with the type of sword resting at the man's hip. In turn, the two are ignorant to the man's curious choice to wear black boots with the ensemble; these boots reach just below his knees and cling to his frame. From what Therese can discern, they were well-worn, but likewise well maintained.

The man's left arm is wrapped in pristine white bandages, suggesting an injury of some sort. His right arm is clad in an ebon gauntlet that reaches the half-way mark of his forearm. Emblazoned upon the gauntlet where the back of his hand would be is the visage of a golden eagle armed with a short sword in one talon and a spell tome in the other. The tips of his fingers and thumb are exposed, another oddity to add to the list. It is the man's face that cements the notion that both individuals were mistaken. Though this man's facial features are indeed similar to the Professor Albright they mistook him for, his eyes are heterochromatic; the right eye is brown while the left is red and harbors what appears to be a black circular runic pattern that is engraved within.

Looking to Therese, the man offers an apologetic bow. "Pray forgive my rudeness, young lady." His speech pattern, notably his style in articulation, is akin to the Professor Albright he was mistook for, but his tone of voice is notably deeper; the softness is similar in turn, though this man speaks with a notable distance that Therese and the scholar beside her find difficult to describe. He continues, "My given name is indeed Cyrus, but Albright is not my surname." He places a hand over his chest to bow once more, this time formally introducing himself. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance; I am Cyrus Coelistis."

Therese's face goes red as the realization of the matter dawns upon her. "Oh, no, this was my mistake! M- My name is Therese; I hope I haven't held you up…" Seeing that the manner is fit to resolve itself, the scholar excuses himself, bidding the two a good day before returning to his own duties.

"Not at all. I am a traveler, new to Atlasdam…to Orsterra as a whole, to be true." He eases into a casual posture, donning a softer visage as he follows, "Do I bear that much of a resemblance to this professor of yours?"

She nods to him, her blush deepening. "Very much so. Your face was so similar that I didn't even notice how differently you two dressed. And for you to share a first name; for a moment I thought you his brother."

He chuckles at this. "An interesting prospect, but I only have a single older brother; a professor, he is not." Looking to the bag the young woman carries, Cyrus makes note of the supplies within. "Might you be an apothecary?"

"Huh? Oh, no." She then notices that her healing salves are within view. "Ah, you mean this? I'm about to head on a journey." Her features take on their serious visage once more, putting the strangely garbed man on alert. "My professor's life is in danger; I must make haste to Stonegard to warn him."

"Are you traveling with any companions?" She shakes her head. "That…is troubling. Bandits are on the rise, young lady; are you truly so confident in your martial skill?"

"I- I know not the ways of combat I'm afraid, but nor have I the luxury of paying for a guardian."

He nods to this. "Then I shall take up the endeavor."

"What? But I cannot pay you…"

"Payment will not be necessary. As fate would have it, I, too, am en route to Stonegard. The Shrine of the Thunderblade is located near there." Therese tilts her head at the notion, silently putting forth the question of why he would seek the shrine. "After perusing the library of this city, I learned that praying to certain shrines will grant you the blessing of the deity tied to them."

"Oh, so you seek the blessing of the Warrior." She raises a finger, her features softening as the current subject redirects her thoughts. "The Shrine of the Sage is just north of the city; would you like to pray there before we set off?"

A small smile forms on Cyrus' expression in turn. "I visited that shrine on my way into the city, actually; I arrived here from Stillsnow." Therese's face lights up in surprise at the notion. "You have probably guessed from the weapon at my hip, but I am no stranger to combat." He rests his left wrist upon the hilt of his katana, his eased posture suggesting a comfortable familiarity with this sort of explanation. "I've escorted plenty of people to safety in my time; I shall protect you in turn." He removes his gauntlet from his right hand before extending it before Therese. "I look forward to working with you, Therese."

She grabs hold of his hand, shaking it firmly. "Likewise Cy- er, Mr. Coelistis."

"Hm…I imagine using the given name of your professor must be awkward." Therese giggles sheepishly at the notion, but makes no effort to refute. "How about you refer to me as 'Shiro' instead?"

"Wait, you don't need to change your name on my account."

"It's no trouble, really."

"W- Well, if you insist…by chance, are you already set to depart?" He nods to her. "That's great news; I just finished making my purchases, you see. Once I grab my things from my dorm we can set out." To this end, she requests that Shiro wait for her at the city gates, to which he agrees. She meets him at this location less than half an hour later, armed with luggage. Without a word, Shiro offers to carry the heaviest of the luggage, an offer which Therese accepts sheepishly. "T- Thank you, Shiro. Let's get going, shall we?"

The pair steps out into the eastern flats of Atlasdam. The guards bid the two a safe journey before watching their forms gradually disappear from view. The sun has reached its highest point in the sky, notifying the traveling pair that the time is now midday. The two walk beside one another in silence, with Shiro paying close attention to the map in his hands. Curiously, there is a marker on this map, which moves in tandem with the pair's location. Therese inquires about this, her interest piqued.

"I called upon the power of a wind spirit to guide me." He gives a wry smile, though involuntarily. "A map is only useful if you know how to read it. Orsterra is incredibly foreign to me." A look of guilt takes over his countenance as he delivers a shameful admission. "Had you told me to exit Atlasdam from the east while I was looking at this map, I'd have no idea how to get to Rippletide." Therese giggles in response, quickly apologizing. Shiro chuckles in kind. "No, you have the right of it."

"Might I ask where you're from?" She puts on an affable expression as she follows, "I'm a student at Atlasdam, studying the history of Orsterra under Professor Albright." Her eyes take on a wistful gleam as thoughts of her professor flow through her mind. "He is…a well-learned gentleman, always willing to devote extra time to furthering the studies of both Princess Mary and myself." The longing tone of her voice is not lost on her companion, though she can do little to hide it. "I worry for his obliviousness, though."

"He's lucky to have a student so concerned for him." He falls silent for a moment, pondering the best way to answer Therese's inquiry. "A thousand pardons for answering your inquiry with one of my own, but you wouldn't happen to be familiar with my attire, would you?" She shakes her head. "I thought not…"

"Your robes are curious, as is that sword at your hip." She gives him another once over, still unable to place his origins. "Orsterra has a history of fallen kingdoms and the like, but the only one that comes to mind is Hornburg, which fell to ruin eight short years ago…your garments and weapon are nothing like that kingdom's products…"

"Aye, Therese; you may find it difficult to believe, but I'm not from any region you'll find in any atlas from your world." Her inquisitive expression shifts to convey confusion instead. "An understandable reaction, to be true." He ceases his march, prompting his companion to do the same. She stands slightly ahead of him on the path, turning to grant him her attention. "I hail from a realm known as Erdboden; it exists in a universe different from your own."

"W- What?" She was certain that she had misheard him. He repeats himself, granting her the clarification she sought, but only bringing more questions. ' _Who in the world did I trust to travel with me?_ ' Not wanting to alarm the man who may very well be hazardous to her well-being, Therese maintains composure as she gives a reply. "Suppose your claim is true; you do realize that no one could possibly believe it, yes?"

He nods. "Of course." She is taken aback by his honesty, even more so by the sincerity in his gaze. "You have every right to be both wary and cautious of me, given how strange that must have sounded." He adopts a contemplative stance, his brow furrowing as he sinks into thought. "To be true, I haven't encountered this problem in the World of Odyssey; after journeying through Etria's Yggdrasil Labyrinth, the people of the world took my status as an interloper at face value."

"So this isn't the first world you've visited?" He shakes his head. ' _Am I seriously humoring him?!_ ' Her questioning continues, "So why did you come here? To Orsterra, I mean."

"I sought a destination different from the World of Odyssey; I just completed another journey there, you see, and wished for new sights before returning to Erdboden." His soft smile returns, putting Therese at ease despite herself. "There was no real goal in mind; I just wanted to observe the beauty of a world that wasn't my own."

Therese adopts a contemplative stance of her own. "Hm…can you return to Erdboden whenever you wish?" He nods to her. "OK, that makes this easy." She proudly places her hands upon her hips, donning a haughty expression as she says, "Show me something that exists in your world, but not in mine."

He thinks on the matter for a moment. "A katana is still a sword so that will not suffice. Do you know what a 'firearm' is?" Therese adopts a confused expression before shaking her head. "Another name for it is 'gun'; might that be familiar instead?" She shakes her head again. "Very well. Please wait a moment."

Shiro snaps his fingers, creating a portal of darkness a short distance off to his side. Therese's eyes go wide as she watches the man willingly step through the portal; he is gone for less than a minute before he re-emerges with something held in his left hand. The object is a weapon of a make Therese has never seen before. Shiro describes it as a musket rifle, an early design of Erdboden's firearms before improved models were drafted. As he explains the rifle's function and how one would properly go about utilizing one such firearm, Therese finds herself fascinated. Shiro's explanation enthralls her, captivating her attention in a way she once thought only Professor Albright could boast.

' _This must be how the professor feels when a new tome arrives…_ ' She presents a few questions, all of which Shiro answers, serving to pique her interest even more. The explanation reaches its conclusion as Shiro steps through the portal of darkness again to return the rifle to its proper place. When he returns, the portal disappears. "Thank you for sharing that with me, Shiro. You know…it would have been easier to just take me to Erdboden."

Shiro dons a dubious expression, as if silently questioning if Therese truly understands what she just suggested. "There's no way you'd willingly step through a portal of darkness with a stranger. Even the gods of your world wouldn't know where it would take you." He places a hand to his forehead, shaking it as he says, "The only way things could possibly be more suspicious is if I had donned a hooded black cloak, spoke in Latin…backwards, and offered you a plate of cookies."

"…yeah, that does sound bad." She steps over to hook her arm in his, donning a grin all the while. "How about I cut you a deal?" Shiro remains straight-faced, but makes no effort extricate himself from her hold. "We can keep traveling together so long as you keep telling me about your home…and yourself, if you're willing."

"I was expecting something more nefarious, what with the way you grabbed me."

"Oh, perish the thought! A sweet young lady like me?" She giggles in her usual manner, though this causes a shiver to run down Shiro's spine. "Why would a warrior such as yourself be afraid of an innocent girl?"

"Because unlike most people, I recognize that the pretty ones are often the most dangerous."

"Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

Ignoring this, Shiro tries to motion back towards their path. "We should get going; night falls sooner when you pay it little heed." Therese puffs out a cheek at his effort to change the subject, but complies all the same. The journey truly begins in earnest, with the pair proceeding through the eastern flats at a respectable clip. A few short hours pass before they reach what the map notes as North Rippletide Coast. The scenery has changed, with the flats having now transitioned into craggy coasts lined with palm trees. Looking to the northeast, the ocean is more readily visible. Taking in a deep breath, Shiro dons a smile. "The familiar sea breeze…it reminds me of Armoroad."

"You sound well-traveled for your age…or are you actually older than you look?" When he comments that he is only 21, her face lights up. "Wow, you are young. I mean, you're older than me, my senior by three years, but still!" She nudges his arm, donning a smirk as she asks, "I bet you have stories to tell, yes?"

"I do, though I know not what sort of tales you're expecting."

"Why, adventures of romance, of course!" Shiro tilts his head at the notion, adopting a look of confusion. "Professor Albright is perhaps the most charming man I've ever met; considering the resemblance you bear, I'm willing to bet good leaves that you attract a similar amount of attention from women." Shiro remains silent. Straight-faced though he may be, his refusal to give a concrete answer is telling all its own. "Come now, Shiro, we're friends, aren't we? I promise I won't get mad if you turn out to be a shameless flirt."

"Admittedly, I am. My mother and older sister always told me that honesty was the best approach in all walks of life." He shrugs. "I took their teachings to heart, even when it became clear that being openly honest with compliments can lead to trouble." He rubs the back of his head as his expression conveys embarrassment; the sight of this causes Therese to giggle again. "I'll not withhold a compliment of someone's beauty if the subject is broached. Many people assume I'm a skirt-chaser, but I usually just mean to give the compliment and little else."

"Are you aware of how the women you're talking to might take those compliments?"

"Painfully so." His countenance shifts to match his claim, bringing surprise to Therese's countenance in turn. "I've been working on my level of tact, Therese; a broken heart is not easily mended, and though I am certain I have not caused such yet, I do not wish to run that risk in the future."

"Well I suppose that's one thing separating you from the professor. He's…more than a little clueless."

"That must be quite taxing on you." Therese expresses surprise at this claim, to which Shiro shakes his head. "Your feelings for the man are clear as day; I first noticed it when you took a good look at me." He adopts a sad expression, his voice sporting undertones of guilt. "You looked so disappointed; I saw but a glimmer of bright hopes that were completely dashed as you realized I wasn't the man you thought I was."

"Perhaps, but it's not your fault…"

"Even so, I'm sorry for bringing you that sort of distress, however brief it may have been. I-" He stops himself as he holds out an arm ahead of his companion. As Therese turns to get a proper look at him, she can see that his features have changed considerably. His once gentle eyes have hardened into a focus as they scan the area for nearby threats. His left hand clutches at the sheath of his weapon. His voice is suddenly harsh, filled with notable agitation as he barks an order towards the path ahead. "Cut the charade; I am full privy to your presence."

Heeding this command, four men armed with scimitars emerge from varying forms of cover. Therese takes a step back, a look of fear plastered on her features. ' _I was none the wiser…_ '

Closing his eyes, Shiro calls upon his left eye, using magic to get a read on the immediate vicinity. The only enemies to concern himself with are the four directly ahead. He opens his eyes, returning his focus to the enemies ahead. ' _Just the four of them; I suppose I could use the practice since I'm not acclimated to this world's rules yet._ ' He motions closer to the enemy quartet, prompting them to step towards him in turn. ' _They have the look of pirates about them._ '

One of the men elects to speak. "Fancy lookin' robes yehr wearin' lad; we'll be taking them and yehr girl." Seeing Therese take another step backwards, undoubtedly intimidated by the ruffian, the man barks a laugh. "No need for fear, lass; we'll take good care of yeh." Another laugh escapes him, though this time he is joined by his friends.

"You'll need to go through me if you seek to harm the young woman in my care."

"Hear that, maties? The lad fancies himself a knight!" He motions to twirl his scimitar in his hand, showing off his dexterity. "You knightly types fancy honorable deaths and whatnot, aye? Well, laddie, yehr in luck; I'm feelin' generous today." He notices a blue shimmer overtake Shiro's form, though only for a brief moment. "Dunno what you just did, but it won't save you, laddie. Boys, get 'im!"

The ruffian in charge is the first to take a swing at Shiro, finding his blade barred by that of his quarry, despite neither seeing nor hearing Shiro draw his weapon. Performing a casual sidestep, Shiro swiftly moves his blade to put the ruffian back into sudden motion, leaving the target open for a strike. He slashes at the man's wrist, cutting a vein open. A scream cries from the man's throat as he drops his weapon and falls to his knees, clutching at his bleeding wrist; his allies take a step back, wary of their foe. Shiro sheathes his blade, much to Therese's horror; the ruffians charge, believing this to be an opening.

Their efforts are met with disappointment, for Shiro parries their attacks in turn. The first ruffian is jabbed in the gut with the end of Shiro's sheath before receiving a punch to the jaw that sends him rolling along the ground. The next ruffian has his thrust evaded as Shiro shifts his body to the side. As a follow-up, Shiro hooks his right foot behind the right foot of his assailant, pulling it forward to cause his quarry to trip backwards. The falling ruffian can let out nary a yelp before a fist backed by both speed and gravity slams into his face, causing the back of his head to collide with the ground in a manner so sudden that it renders him unconscious. The final ruffian is likewise rendered unconscious as he suffers a spinning kick to the side of his head, though this goes unnoticed by Therese since she blinked and failed to see Shiro's motions.

Her companion exhales as he returns his katana to his waist. As he steps over to grab her hand, she can see that his previously serious and somewhat frightening expression now conveys concern. "Let us be off; needs must I see you to safer ground." She nods to him, unable to find the words to reply to what she just witnessed.


	2. Beneath the Surface

Author's Notes: _This chapter runs on for much longer than the first; I apologize if this inconveniences anyone, but I wished to fit Cyrus' Chapter 3 boss encounter in here, causing the extension._

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 **Chapter 2: Beneath the Surface**

After having dealt with the previous encounter, the pair of travelers makes haste to put distance between itself and any additional brigands who may be lurking about. They arrive at the city of Rippletide, located due west of the East Rippletide Coast. The sun is in the process of setting, bringing with it the time for a number of the merchants present here to close up shop. The large trading port, though still lively with ongoing business, is reaching the lull point of its day. A few people armed with fishing gear can be seen exiting their homes; Shiro absently comments that these individuals must be setting out to catch nocturnal targets. The notion is put out of mind as both he and his charge make way to purchase a room at the inn.

Settling into their temporary abode, Therese is the first to flop onto her bed, letting out a satisfied groan as she begins to roll around the spread as if she were a cat. "I'm more out of shape than I thought; all of that running has me exhausted." She looks to her partner, who has taken to sitting at a desk. Shiro pulls a notebook from his belongings; summoning a small portal of darkness, he pulls from it a black, fine-tip pen, as well as a pair of blue, semi-rimmed box-frame reading glasses. He dons them, crosses his legs, and opens the notebook to an early page to begin his note-taking. ' _He looks so comfortable._ ' She asks, "Might you be a scholar, Shiro?"

"Aye, though I am not affiliated with any academic institution." He lifts his head to grant his companion proper attention. "Within Erdboden, I hail from the Land of Mages; imagine, if you will, the city of Atlasdam, but as an entire country." Therese's expression lights up at the thought as her mind tries to create a fitting image. "My home country is divided into a few provinces, each with its own focus. I was born and raised in the Province of Science, the academic center of the country that is not unlike Atlasdam."

"What do you study?" She makes herself comfortable, resting her elbows on the bed as she lies on her stomach. Placing her chin on her hands, she looks to her companion with the same eyes of intrigue she sported as he explained the construction and purpose of firearms. "Might you have a specific field?"

"The bulk of my personal research lies with the element of ice, such are my duties as the Sage of Ice." Seeing Therese's eyes light up again, he chuckles. "Within the Province of Science, there are six individuals who are granted the esteemed privilege of advancing the development of the world's understanding of the elements of our realm." Pulling out another notebook, he turns it over to Therese. As she flips through his notes, he explains that, "Your world uses six elements as well, though they are different from Erdboden's."

Looking through his notes, Therese can see that Erdboden's six elements do indeed feature a couple of distinct differences. "Within Orsterra, we harness the powers of Fire, Ice, Wind, Lightning, Light, and Darkness; three pairs are assigned, with two elements in linked opposition." She takes another moment to read through the page of notes. "In Erdboden, Earth is an additional element, with Wind and Lightning being…a composite element. Huh. The similarities remain from there, with your world also sporting elemental pairings." She looks to him. "I would expect a sage to be an old scholar, with graying hair and other aged features."

"All of the current sages are young, save for the Sage of Darkness; she's over six thousand years old."

"B- Beg your pardon?!"

"Forsooth, Diana Annora, Sage of Darkness, has lived for well over six millennia. She's a vampire, you see." Therese's eyes widen in concern. "She is a good woman, I assure you; she's a close friend of my mother…and is the person who raised me after I lost my family."

"W- Oh, I'm so sorry." Cyrus raises a hand to stop her, quickly assuring that such apologies are unnecessary. "To be raised by a vampire…are you also an immortal?"

He shakes his head to this. "Master Annora says I am welcome to the offer, but I have no intentions of living forever."

"So the rest of you are prodigies?"

To her surprise, Shiro shakes his head. "The previous sages hand-pick their successors before retiring. The successor inherits the research of those who came before, assuming the role so that the one who comes after will be prepared in turn." He raises a finger as he brings Therese's attention back to Diana. "The Sage of Darkness is an exception, one that we all take as a blessing." Therese tilts her head at this. "The element of darkness, while not inherently evil in Erdboden, is inherently dangerous. Not just anyone can handle it without succumbing to madness; to be true, without my master, our circle would struggle to maintain the pace of research for the element."

"Hm, I see…so are you training a successor yet? Or are you going to wait until you become an old man?"

"I'm training an apprentice, actually; she shows much promise. She is my assistant at present, but when I turn over my duties, the roles shall swap; I'll offer her my support until I am no longer able, or until she no longer has need of me." A small smile forms on his lips, his eyes adopting a nostalgic gleam. "The day she surpasses me will be a glorious one." Changing the subject, he asks, "Are your feet still in pain?" She nods to him, to which he pulls a vial containing a pink liquid from his belongings. Handing it to her, he says, "Pour a few drops of this into a wash bin filled with hot water; half an hour of soaking your feet in the solution should do the trick, provided you get some rest afterwards."

She accepts the vial, thanking her companion in turn. "Are you sure you're not an apothecary?"

"I know a thing or two about medicine since my father was a doctor, but I'm an alchemist."

"Ah, so you brew all sorts of items, not just healing salves." She rises from her bed, a smile on her face. "I'll go put this to work at once."

Turning back to the desk, Shiro returns to his note-taking. Five minutes pass before he can hear the sound of Therese taking a seat upon the bed behind him. "Did you encounter some trouble?" He turns around to see that Therese has brought the wash bin into the main room, and is currently soaking her feet within it. It doesn't take long for the solution to emit its sweet floral scent, one that has hints of peach within. The young woman heaves a content sigh as her pain begins to melt away. ' _I don't know what I expected._ '

Shiro returns to his notes, leaving the pair in a prolonged silence. Therese eventually asks, "What might you be writing about?"

"I'm making an effort to gauge how this world limits my abilities."

"How…do you mean?" He takes a seat to her right, motioning the notebook over to give her a better view of its contents. On the page viewable to her is a list comprised of details on the Scholar; the seven basic skills related to the profession are here, including Analyze; the Divine Skill, Alephan's Enlightenment, is also listed, complete with the restrictions it puts forth as well as a duration metric identified as "Turns". She turns the page, finding that the next lists abilities of a profession known as "Wanderer". "Hm, I haven't heard of this before…"

"I should assume not, as it is the Job Class assigned to me during my time here." Therese shades a leer at him, though he remains unfettered. "There is no shrine to which you might pray to gain access to these abilities either."

"How, then, would you bestow these abilities unto another?"

"I'll have to work that out as I go along. For now, needs must I focus on what I can use in the moment."

Scanning the page, Therese makes note of four techniques: Spirit Sword, Mirror Moon, Hawkeye, and Issen. "There are a copious number of notes concerning Spirit Sword; might I ask…"

"I wished to list the differences between Orsterra's version of the skill and the version I used during my time in Iorys." He pauses, gesturing towards the notebook page as a grin forms. "There were numerous." Therese snickers at his quip, voicing a brief agreement. "Spirit Sword used to be a passive; now it's an active skill, and a debilitative one at that." He closes his notebook, pressing a finger to his temple as he begins to concentrate. "Perhaps…" he shakes his head, heaving a sigh. "No, I should probably get some sleep instead; I think we could both use the rest."

Therese nods in agreement, a smile upon her face as she says, "You head on to bed first; I plan to turn in as well once my footbath is complete."

Rising to his feet, Shiro takes a step away from her as he says, "Pray, do not overextend your respite." He smirks as he follows, "If you were to prune your feet in our current region, why, I fear they'd become raisins by noon." He performs a sidestep as Therese motions to knock him down with a push.

She gestures towards him, a notable fire in her eyes. "Why don't you come closer? I fear my hearing must be going bad."

"Nah, I think we're fine where we are." He climbs into bed, pulling the covers over his frame and turning to the curtained window. "Sleep well, Therese; I shall speak with you again in the morning." After eating breakfast the following morning, the two bid the innkeeper farewell to continue their journey refreshed. A few hours of unimpeded travel bring a gradual shift in scenery. From the sea breeze and tropical climate of the Coastlands, the duo enters an environment harsh in both structure and air. Taking a look at the map, Shiro notes that, "We've crossed into the Highlands; the air is thinner up here than I thought it would be."

"That is to say nothing of the path; tripping upon a stray stone would be liable to set ruin upon us." Pointing ahead to the south, she directs her ally's attention to a pair of peaks that narrow into a valley. "That is the entrance to North Stonegard Pass; the Shrine of the Thunderblade is not far from the entrance." She looks to him as she follows, "Should our road prove gentle, we should be able to reach Stonegard proper before nightfall." Her hopes are dashed; though the pair exits the North Cobbleston Gap with plenty of time to spare before sundown, the act is not accomplished without seeing them accosted by several Dread Falcons. Taking a seat upon a flat boulder, Therese lets out a huff. "Contemptible vermin."

Shiro, in contrast, remains straight-faced. In his grip is a small bag containing numerous samples of pomegranate essence collected from the falcons that attacked him and his companion. "This was a bountiful haul."

She scoffs, not at all pleased. "Well I'm glad one of us could find a silver lining in this mess." She points at him. "And what was with that giant goat?! You'd think the creature was birthed from a monster!" She shakes her head at the notion, putting the creature out of mind. "Your call in avoiding that section of the Gap was well placed."

"Assessing danger and avoiding unnecessary fights is part of my job as well." After Therese's momentary respite is over, the two proceed south. A branching path awaits ahead, with the left path leading to the east and the right path to the west. Peering down the western path, Shiro can see that it leads to the entrance of a small cavern. He glances at the map. "Unmarked…that could be our shrine." Furling the map, he takes hold of Therese's hand and motions towards the cave. "Onward, my companion."

"Eh? I'm going, too?"

Shiro glances back at her, an eyebrow arched as he adopts a questioning visage. "My dear, do you truly expect me to leave you out here by your lonesome? What if you were to be accosted by more falcons? Worse still, what if bandits arrived?"

"I…suppose you do have a point."

Stepping into the cave, the pair traverses a brief stretch that transitions into a bridge made of stone. Though aged, the stones comprising the bridge are well-maintained, and appear as sturdy as those comprising the bridge leading into Atlasdam. A flight of stairs is ascended, putting the two in front of an altar. Though it would appear that two pillars once stood at either side of the altar, both have collapsed into ruin; in turn, two standing torches are left unlit, and appear to have remained as such for an incredibly long time. Resting atop this altar is a pedestal holding a sword & shield. An epithet is engraved upon the face of the altar, reading, "Brand, the Thunderblade". Shiro takes a knee, hanging his head low as he offers a silent prayer to one of Orsterra's deities; Therese follows suit.

A voice then begins to echo in their minds. "Hail, travelers. I am Brand, the Thunderblade. Unto thee, who both dost boldly venture to this place, I impart the knowledge of the heavens." The immediate area surrounding the altar is bathed in a blue light, encompassing both Shiro and Therese. The two have imparted upon them the knowledge needed to fight as a Warrior within the realm of Orsterra. Despite the latter of the two having never wielded a weapon, she suddenly finds herself knowledgeable on the basics of swords and polearms alike.

Shiro is the first to rise to his feet, offering a bow to the altar. "You have my thanks, your lordship."

"Be wary, interloper; you are not alone in your visit to this realm." Shiro's look of surprise brings the deity momentary pause. "Your reaction doth suggest that your fellows are not allies."

"Might you have additional information? Their appearances, perhaps, or even their current location?"

"The interlopers you seek…they number at four, and hath cast their lot with an information network belonging to a group known as the Obsidians. That is…all a god might give, traveler."

"Ah, a hands-off approach; I understand. You have my humble thanks, deity; I shall investigate further from here." With this, the sword & shield mounted upon the pedestal disappear, bursting into light that lingers for but a moment before fading. Shiro turns on his heel to face the shrine's exit, offering a hand to Therese in turn. She takes hold of it, lifting herself up to stand at his side. She looks to see that her companion's expression has turned dark, sporting the same serious visage he wore when he faced the quartet of brigands a day prior. ' _Are they also from Erdboden, and if so, who are they? I know of no others capable of warping via dark magic, save for Valerie and Master Annora…_ ' He is snapped out of his thoughts as he feels Therese squeeze his hand. Turning to face her, he can see her worried countenance, which causes his own to soften. "M- My apologies, Therese; you must be tired. Come, let us make haste to Stonegard."

She isn't given the chance to contest his efforts to dodge the unspoken question lingering on the wind. They exit the Shrine of the Thunderblade, returning to the road leading to Stonegard in silence. The city is not far off in the distance, its buildings standing within view despite the pair suspecting it will need at least an hour to reach the gates. True to form, they arrive in Stonegard with much daylight to spare; the buildings of this city are composed of stone, sporting a color scheme so similar to the natural surrounding structures that one might easily find themselves mistaking said buildings for cliff faces. Denizens of the populace stand and mill about; most are making quiet small talk amongst themselves, though others peddle their wares from dedicated stalls attached directly to their homes.

After booking a room at the inn, the two set out in hopes of finding Professor Albright. A worried expression is fixed upon Therese's countenance as her eyes carefully scan her surroundings. "I just hope he hasn't left the city already."

"It is not my place to ask, but what threatens Professor Albright's life?"

"Yvon, current headmaster of the academy."

Shiro snickers, albeit unintentionally. "What, does he fear that Albright will take his position?"

Therese scoffs at the notion. "Professor Albright is more than thrice the scholar, so I wouldn't be surprised if that were the case." Her expression then shifts to convey guilt. "However…I fear that the fault might lie with me." She falls silent, her guilt intensifying as she realizes that Shiro isn't going to pry. "You've already guessed how I feel about him. The professor…he spends a great deal of time with the princess, though I know it's only to answer her questions. Mary has always been a studious one, it's only natural she'd take to the professor as she did."

Shiro nods to the assessment, folding his arms as he slips both into his sleeves. "Jealousy began to take root, yes?" She nods to him, unable to bring herself to meet his gaze. "That…'tis a human failing, Therese; we all succumb to it at some point."

"I wanted him to spend more time with me, so I went to the headmaster to spread a small rumor." Her pained expression returns; she clutches at her chest in turn, feeling a haunting pain no remedy could hope to address. "I put forth the notion that he and Mary were having an affair; I knew he'd be forced to distance himself from her, but I never thought it would cost him his job." Tears begin to well in her eyes. "They evicted him, Shiro…kicked him out of Atlasdam. I-" Her voice begins to break. "I didn't want things to come to this."

Shiro wipes the tears threatening to fall from his companion's eyes. He grants her silent wish to not be viewed in her current state, opting to keep his gaze focused on the path ahead. Resting a hand upon her shoulder, he takes to speaking with a gentle and comforting tone. "Mistakes were made, Therese; we tend to make our greatest blunders when we act within the interest of those we care for." He pauses to consider his next choice of words; they are found, though he expresses hesitation to voice them. "You have a chance to make amends, to set right what was fouled." He slightly turns his head towards her. Though this action is not enough to grant him a view of his companion, he does so in hopes of conveying his sincerity. "The path to redemption cannot begin until you forgive yourself. I imagine Professor Albright would tell you the same."

Therese is silent for a long moment, ultimately electing to give a single nod as her reply. "Thank you, Shiro." She turns to face him, returning to the original question presented to her. "I overheard Headmaster Yvon speaking with someone I'm unfamiliar with. They spoke of seeing to the professor's death."

Shiro arches an eyebrow at the notion. "That is…concerning indeed." He ponders this information for a moment before saying, "I don't think this has anything to do with your actions, Therese, though the chance to send him away would certainly give them an easy means of explaining away his permanent absence." He takes note of a pair of women standing not far off in the distance; their attire is unlike the native citizens of Stonegard, suggesting that they, too, might be travelers. "Let us consult those two; gods willing, we'll get a lead."

Approaching the women, Shiro and Therese get a closer look at their features. To their right is a blonde woman, 20 years of age. She wears her shoulder-length hair straight, donning no accessories to accentuate her features. Her gentle eyes are brown, though are notably plagued with concern; a white shawl is draped over her shoulders, held together by a circular golden trinket. Covering her form is a white dress sporting blue and gold accents; it reaches down to her ankles. Her arms are adorned with a pair of brown gloves that reach up to her biceps; she also wields a staff, suggesting that she might be a traveling cleric. Curiously, a lantern carrying a blue flame is at her hip.

To the left is a brunette, 23 years of age, sporting green eyes that are likewise plagued with concern. Her hair is done up in a high ponytail, one that is held together by a shimmering accessory that serves as a hair-tie. Various golden accessories adorn her slender form, ranging from earrings, arm bands, and an extravagant necklace. Her red attire does not cover much, covering only her chest and waist. The slit of her dress runs all the way to her hips, causing even the slightest bit of movement to expose her legs. A pair of modest brown sandals covers her feet, though Therese winces at the thought of this woman traversing the Highlands without proper boots. A small mole sits beneath the left side of her lower lip, bringing attention to her beautiful face.

Shiro holds up a hand to greet the two, straight-faced as usual as he says, "Well met, ladies. Pray, forgive our sudden approach, for you look troubled with your own concerns, but might we ask a few questions of you?"

The brunette is the first to address him, her eyes lighting up in surprise. "Cyrus, where have you bee-" She raises a hand to her mouth, having only just noticed that Shiro is not who she assumed he was. "Oh…my apologies, stranger."

"The name you mentioned, might it belong to Cyrus Albright?" She nods to him, which causes Shiro to exhale a sigh of relief. His stance eases into a softer state of familiarity as he dons a soft smile. "Most fortuitous. My name is Cyrus Coelistis, though you may call me Shiro." Gesturing to Therese, he follows, "This is Therese, a traveling companion I have tasked myself with escorting to Professor Albright."

Therese performs a curtsey, which is returned by both of the women she addresses. "I'm one of Professor Albright's students, here to warn him of coming danger." The two raise their guard at the claim, though say nothing in favor of letting Therese continue. "Have you two seen him recently?"

The brunette nods to this, easing the fear in Therese's eyes. "We're travel companions of the man. I am Primrose," she gestures to her comrade as she follows, "and this is Ophilia."

"Professor Albright made way for the northern edge of town some 30 minutes ago." She looks to the north, directing the pair's attention to an estate looming in the distance. "A woman named Lucia spoke of that estate being the birthplace of one…Yvon, I believe?" Therese's eyes widen in terror. "Lucia spoke of a nefarious plot in the works, and requested the professor's help."

Folding her arms, Primrose's expression conveys a sense of annoyance. "Cyrus insisted on going with her, alone, stating that he'd return to us upon deciding whether or not he'd go through with investigating the premises." She takes note of Shiro's shift in expression. His ease and familiarity have disappeared entirely, being replaced with concern and alarm. "Shiro, was it?" He looks to her, unable to mask his face. "If you're going to that estate, we're accompanying you." To her surprise, he gives but a single nod.

"I appreciate the help, milady." He looks the two over. "Have the two of you any combat experience?"

Primrose is the first to answer his inquiry, flashing a sheathed dagger at her hip. "I work as a combat Dancer." Shiro pulls out a notebook and begins taking notes, causing her to chuckle. "If I didn't know any better, I'd mistake you for Cyrus' brother." She rests a hand on her hip as she follows, "My dances are mystical in nature, capable of bolstering a variety of things. I'll inform you of the specifics along the way."

"Much appreciated; are you in possession of any Divine Skills?"

"Yes, actually. The Dancer's Divine Skill is known as Sealticge's Seduction; its effects allow skills that usually only affect a single target to affect a group." She watches as Shiro scribbles away in his notebook, periodically voicing an assurance that Primrose still commands his attention. "Quite the scholar yourself, eh?" She looks to Ophilia as she says, "Be a dear and tell him your repertoire as well; I suspect he'll be our strategist in the coming encounters."

"Ah, yes. I-" she waits for Shiro to face her, taken aback by his serious and attentive expression. ' _My, my, he takes this quite seriously…_ ' An awkward chuckle escapes her before she begins her explanation proper. "As a Sister with the Church of the Sacred Flame, I contribute to my allies with the healing arts." She deigns to give Shiro a chance to write that information down, but he spurs her onward. "I, well, I can heal our comrades, and I recently learned how to channel my magic to revive any incapacitated allies."

His pen stops. "Your revival spell targets all of your allies?" She nods to him, prompting him to continue his scribbles. "Fascinating. Pardon that interruption; please continue."

"Of course. I am also capable of bolstering the elemental defense of a single ally through a Sheltering Veil, but in times of emergency, I can instead bestow a Reflective Veil to make a single ally reflect elemental attacks entirely." She waits for a moment before giving one final piece of information. "My Divine Skill is known as Aelfric's Auspices; I call upon the bringer of the Sacred Flame to temporarily grant a single ally the ability to use a skill twice with no interruptions."

"I trust that your Divine Skills do not affect other Divine Skills, yes?" They both nod to him. He looks to Primrose as he asks, "Sealticge's Seduction will affect Sheltering and Reflective Veil?" She nods. "Understood. I shall inform you both of what I have available en route to our destination. Let us go to the professor's aid."

The estate the group of four travels to is a large manor that appears to be abandoned; curious still, the front door is unlocked, with Shiro noting that there is no dust to be seen. He looks to the hinges, finding that they are well-maintained and sport no trace of rust. True to form, the door swings open easily, generating no noise to alert anyone who might be waiting on the other side. The infiltration commences without a hitch, allowing the four to explore the interior of this manor without impediment. The architecture is striking, comprised primarily of dark brown wood, presumably mahogany. Garish red banners line the walls, accented with gold and candle holsters. The carpets adorning the floors are somehow even more garish in their red visage, causing minor irritation to the eyes of the estate's intruders.

It does not take long for the four to reach a hidden area of the estate, one that is lined with trap doors that lead into pits with no discernible way out. Opening one of these trap doors reveals a living man sitting with his legs crossed at the bottom. Therese immediately recognizes him, her expression suddenly mixed with shock and relief. "Professor? Professor Albright, is that you?!"

The man looks up, adopting his own surprised countenance upon seeing Therese's face. "Therese? My dear, whatever are you doing here?" She does not answer him, instead tossing a rope for him to climb. He does so without hesitation, soon realizing that Therese has companions at her side. "Primrose and Ophilia as well?" He then looks to Shiro. "My thanks go out to you as well, stranger; I am Cyrus Albright." Shiro introduces himself in turn, also explaining, in part, his reasons for being here. "Therese's guardian?"

"Professor, I'm so glad I found you. I have a warning to give, but before I speak, are you hurt?"

"Pray, worry not, my girl; I am well." Therese nods to this before explaining to him what she explained to Shiro a short while ago. "An attempt on my life? That certainly aligns with just transpired…"

Before any further words can be exchanged, a sudden burst of magic strikes Professor Albright, sending him flying into a wall. Shiro turns to face the source, finding another spell flying towards both Ophilia and Primrose. He charges in, adopting a defensive stance in an effort to take the hit for the two, but all three are sent flying from the force of the explosion. From the smoke emerges a man dressed in extravagant robes; his brown hair is combed back, giving it a windswept visage. A well-groomed mustache decorates his upper lip, its sheen accented by his red eyes. This man grabs hold of Therese, holding a knife to her throat upon noticing Shiro's movements.

"Not a step closer, boy, lest you bring unnecessary risk to the girl." Shiro relents, even going so far as to toss his katana aside. "There's a good lad. I knew Cyrus would eventually come to this place, but you as well, Therese?" He heaves a sigh, shaking his head in disappointment. "You certainly have pluck for a girl your age."

"Yvon, release her at once!"

"Oh? It would appear that you were not expecting her presence either. Am I to assume that hostage negotiations were not factored into your scholarly pursuits?" Cyrus grits his teeth, his eyes betraying the confirmation he refuses to voice. "I'll give you a simple ultimatum. Mark me, Cyrus – cease your efforts to meddle in my research, or the girl's life is forfeit." Yvon speaks nothing further, instead snapping the fingers of his free hand to cause both himself and Therese to disappear via a burst of dark energy.

Shiro helps his new acquaintances to their feet before snapping his fingers, which warps his katana to his left hand. "Taking an innocent as a hostage; gods take that villain." He looks about the other three as he asks, "Anyone hurt? I can fashion some healing salves if need be." They all voice that there is no need for such action, to which he nods. "Very well." He takes a knee as he places the exposed fingers of his right hand to the floor; closing his eyes, he calls upon his left to scan the premises. "Therese is being held in the cellar; we must make haste." Rising to his feet, he looks to Cyrus as he says, "He'll certainly kill her, regardless of your choice to heed his warning."

Nodding to this, Cyrus says, "An astute conjecture, friend. Judging from your abilities, might I trouble you to take point?"

"Gladly. I'll see to our combat strategy in turn, so you need only worry for your casting time. Pray tell, we are short on time, but I require a rundown of your spell repertoire." He pulls out his pen and notebook, prompting Cyrus to begin his lecture. Said lecture is abridged, given the shortage of time, but conveys the information Shiro needs to formulate a plan. "You have my thanks. Our turn order might be a bit shaky, but this should work."

The party of four rushes to the cellars of this estate; spending 10 minutes following Shiro's guidance, they reach the heart of the cellar. Here, Yvon has finished strapping Therese onto a rack. Cyrus calls out to her, only to be answered with an exhausted voice. Yvon turns to the party, a look of disappointment in his visage. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? You always were too inquisitive for your own good, Cyrus."

Shiro steps forward, a look of barely restrained rage burning in his eyes. "Release Therese at once, and the worst you'll get is your prison sentence."

Yvon scoffs at this threat, not even deigning to take his focus off of Cyrus as he asks, "And should I refuse?"

"Your death will be slow and excruciating." Ophilia is notably taken aback by this, surprised that the man's once affable tone has shifted to something so venomous. "Involving the innocent was heinous enough, but you had the gall to lie about sparing her life." He takes a single step forward, his right hand drawing near the hilt of his katana. "I have the right of mind to ruin you on the spot, but I'll allow one last shot at mercy." Yvon chuckles at the threat, soon erupting in full hearty laughter. "You think this is a game?"

"What an amusing lad; amusing, but ignorant. You'd have been better off not getting involved with this girl. Having seen my secrets, I am afraid she must die." He steps away from Therese, granting a berth separating himself from his captive. "I shall finish off both student and teacher in one fell swoop. The three of you…shall be the unfortunate collateral."

Cyrus steps forward, standing opposite Yvon, soon joined by his three comrades. "You'll not lay a hand upon my pupil, Yvon; I shall personally see to that."

"My, but you seem terribly agitated as well, Cyrus. 'Tis poor for the humors, you know." He then brandishes a red crystal, one that elicits a gasp of shock from both Cyrus and Ophilia.

Gazing upon it, Shiro gives a sideways glance. "Is that a blood crystal?"

"Oh? You're familiar, young man? I had taken you for a fool with a blade." He slams the crystal against his chest, causing a torrent of darkness to cover his form. When this torrent quells, it leaves a giant in its wake. Yvon has been transformed into a gargantuan beast, recognizable only by his retained blood-red eyes and windswept brown hair. Even his voice has shifted as he bellows a roar. "You will taste the power I summoned from the far reaches of Hell!" To the party's surprise, two hooded scholars armed with spell tomes rush to the fore, acting as Yvon's vanguard.

Shiro tosses a large seed to Primrose, who takes a moment to study it before realizing that what she holds is an energizing pomegranate. ' _I see. The enemy will surely pelt us with the elements._ ' She consumes the seed, feeling its empowering effects activate immediately. Understanding the plan, she takes a moment to focus, which causes an aetherial blue and green flame to envelop her form. She begins to dance around Ophilia, calling upon mystic powers to bestow upon her comrade the effects of Sealticge's Seduction. "There you go, friend; be a dear and boost when you cast Reflective Veil."

Ophilia nods to this, taking quick note that the opposing scholars are both casting spells; their tomes emit a green glow, suggesting wind magic is inbound. She takes a moment to focus, being enveloped by an aetherial red flame. ' _I must protect my allies._ ' She chants a swift prayer, which bestows the effects of a green shield to herself and her comrades. Her timing is apt in turn, for the two opposing scholars have just finished casting their spells. Two green tornadoes swirl around the party, only for their damage to be fully negated.

For their trouble, each scholar is pelted with a reflection of his own attack four times a piece, though the damage is not enough to rob them of their consciousness. Yvon charges in, delivering a downward swing of his mighty fist at Shiro as he roars in a primal rage. Shiro jumps back to avoid this, noting the destruction of the floor where he once stood. ' _By the gods…that wouldn't be a pleasant experience._ ' He glances at his allies, seeing that Cyrus has tossed an energizing pomegranate to Ophilia, which she consumes without delay. ' _OK, what ne-_ ' His thoughts are interrupted by Primrose, who has snuck in enough time to perform the Peacock Strut to bolster Cyrus' elemental damage. ' _Well I'll be damned; I must inquire of her ability to take two actions later._ '

Primrose looks to Shiro, nodding upon realizing that he dodged Yvon's attack. "Shiro, be a dear and grant Cyrus the effects of Hawkeye."

"As you wish, milady." He exhales, tightening his focus as his own form is momentarily engulfed in an aetherial flame. "Let's begin." He draws his katana, stabbing it into the ground to summon a magic circle beneath Cyrus' feet. The runes of this magic circle are unlike any his three companions have ever seen, though there is no time to ponder this.

Cyrus finds his vision improved; somehow, through a manner he is currently ignorant to, he can see the most vulnerable areas of his opponents. ' _A buff to one's visual clarity? I wager my magic will be far more precise as I am now; I might be able to strike critical weak points with H'aanit's level of precision._ ' He begins his casting after consuming an energizing pomegranate tossed to him by Primrose, trusting his allies with any remaining prep work.

The two scholars elect to forego spell casting on this bout, instead brandishing their staves as they rush towards Ophilia. The Cleric focuses her inner strength to engulf her own form with the same green and blue flame that once empowered Primrose. She folds her hands in prayer, calling upon the Saint Aelfric to grant Cyrus the effects of his auspices. Though left defenseless as a result of her actions, she is protected by Shiro, who deflects both of the scholar's attacks with the sheath of his katana. Looking back to Cyrus, Shiro can see that the man is casting a lightning spell.

As the spell's casting completes, Cyrus channels his energy to conjure the green and blue flames. "Now the true lesson begins!" These flames imbue his spell with greater power, striking Yvon and his henchman twice. A cry of agony sounds from the two enemy scholars as a second pair of lightning bolts sends them flying into nearby bookshelves; they promptly lose consciousness, leaving Yvon to fight alone. The transformed man pushes on, unfettered by the loss of his subordinates, as he delivers a sweeping strike with his massive forearm. Everyone in the party is struck, sending them rolling along the ground.

Shiro and Primrose recover from this faster than their allies, with the latter stealing the moment to consume another energizing pomegranate. ' _I should thank H'aanit later; Patience is a fantastic support skill…_ ' Having taken less time to recover than Shiro, a grin traces upon her lips as she begins to dance around him. As she works to bestow the effects of Sealticge's Seduction once again, she says, "Use Mirror Moon after I'm done."

As he rises to his feet, he can feel the dance take effect. "As you wish." He adopts a countering stance, causing a brief green light to shimmer from his form; this light shimmers from his allies immediately afterwards. ' _So Mirror Moon is also affected by that Divine Skill._ ' He glances at Primrose, whose catty smile causes him to chuckle. "You certainly had the right of it, milady." He then feels his injuries fading, courtesy of Ophilia calling upon a sacred light to heal the party.

Though Cyrus has an opportunity to attack, he elects to put up his guard instead. This works to his favor, for Yvon delivers another sweeping strike to the party. Primrose is fortunate enough to avoid damage completely, but the same cannot be said for her allies. To his own surprise, Cyrus finds his body motioning to strike Yvon's kneecap with his staff. ' _What on earth?!_ ' Ophilia takes to the same action, striking the kneecap Cyrus left undamaged. "Et tu, Ophilia?!"

Her flustered expression suggests she is just as confused as he is. "I- I know not what came over me! I saw an opening after his attack and felt…compelled to seize the advantage."

Primrose counters in turn, slashing at Yvon's neck with her dagger. The creature staggers backwards, roaring in rage as pain seizes his form; Shiro counters as well, stabbing his katana into Yvon's chest in hopes of wrenching the bloody crystal from it. He fails, forcing the man to retreat to his allies. ' _I know not what my own Divine Skill is yet…needs must I hasten my training to gain access to it._ ' He crouches, sinking deep into his drawing stance. "The target's guard is open; if you have energy to spare, hold back nothing!"

Shiro leads the assault as he seems to outright disappear from sight. An audible click resounds through the forlorn cellar before being followed by the sound of a blade slicing along the musty air. Several wounds open up on Yvon's form before Shiro reappears, crouched and blade sheathed, in the same spot as before. Yvon is then assaulted by a volley of six lightning strikes – four from Cyrus, two from Ophilia. Primrose takes to performing the Lion Dance to bolster Shiro's next physical attack. Yvon does not fall from this volley, bolstering his physical strength and shoring up his defenses. Primrose clicks her tongue in frustration at the sight. "We'll have to lay into him again, but the effects of the Divine Skills will wear off soon."

"We can fix that. Sister Ophilia, extend the effects of Aelfric's Auspices." She nods to him and begins her prayer. Glancing at the approaching Yvon, he notes something has changed. ' _That's weird, my Runic Eye didn't note a weakness to Fire before now…_ ' He nods to himself. "Professor, cast Fire Storm; he's somehow gained a new weakness!"

Yvon manages to act before Cyrus' casting is complete, surging his fist at Shiro. "Insolent wretch! Perish!"

The punch is avoided as Shiro casually steps to the side. In retaliation, he delivers a critical strike with a drawing slash, severing Yvon's right hand. "You lack focus." He then jumps out of the way, granting Cyrus a clear shot to break Yvon's guard with a double casting of Fire Storm. One final volley, ending with Cyrus boosting his next double cast of Fire Storm to its current peak in damage, causes the crystal embedded in Yvon's chest to explode.

The headmaster recoils, practically falling backwards outright, as a scream is loosed from his throat. His body begins to rapidly decay, with bits of his flesh falling from where they once sat. "P- Preposterous! I am…all powerful! I was mea- meant to be…immortal!" He staggers forward as he attempts to ready his remaining fist. His strength fails him, forcing him to one knee. "They…were all lies." Cyrus demands to know the specifics, but Yvon is unable to hear him. "I- I canno-" His final sentence goes unfinished, for he falls to the ground and explodes into dust that quickly fades away. The party puts this out of mind in favor of seeing Therese to safety.

* * *

Story Notes: _Given that Shiro is intended to be operating under a new Job Class, it stands to reason that the skills therein should follow the same logic and rules as those of his peers. The Wanderer is akin to the Swordmaster of the Bravely Duology, boasting a focus on reducing incoming damage and countering in turn; its weapon choices are the katana and bow. Shiro only has five skills available right now; I'll put them at the end of chapters as they are introduced._

 **Spirit Sword** : Reduce a single foe's physical and elemental attack strength for 2 Turns. ( _Active Skill_ )  
 **Hawk Eye** : For 2 Turns, a single ally's attacks will land with a 100% Critical Hit Rate. ( _Active Skill_ )  
 **Mirror Moon** : For 2 Turns, a single ally will counter any attack that targets him/her with a standard attack for boosted damage. ( _Active Skill_ )  
 **Issen** : Attack all foes with a katana, and act earlier on your next turn. ( _Active Skill_ )

 **Amped Strike** : Increases Critical Hit Modifier to 150%. ( _Support Skill_ )  
\- The Critical Hit Modifier is normally 125%.


	3. The Wind doesn't Draw Heroes

**Chapter 3: The Wind doesn't Draw Heroes**

Therese is rushed to the inn, where Shiro seeks to grant her proper bed rest, as well as an assessment of her current condition. Here, shortly before making way to the room he and his companion booked, he meets another traveling companion of the allies he fought alongside to rescue Therese. The individual is 21 years old, sporting dark brown eyes and light brown hair. His hair is, much like Shiro's, disheveled, though perhaps even more so. The hairs upon this man's crown stick upwards, despite seemingly having no trace of hair gel present to facilitate such a style. A small portion of hair on the back of his head is tied into a ponytail.

The shirt upon his back is beige in color; a brown vest is worn over this shirt, sporting a number of pockets for housing vials and other such implements. A green jacket is worn over both, though it appears to be for form rather than function. Beige pants accompany the upper attire, with the man's boots a dark brown. As he rises from his seat, the brown medicine bag at his side comes into view. This bag appears to be well-maintained, with a few recent-looking stitches having been set in place to mend fraying. Cyrus introduces this man as Alfyn Greengrass, an Apothecary traveling with the group.

"Well met, Alfyn; my name is Shiro. Though I'd like to exchange introductions properly, needs must I attend to my companion here. Might I ask for your assistance?"

"Consider that assistance granted, friend; lead the way."

Shiro sets Therese down upon one of the beds, promptly taking a knee so that he may examine her. Placing two fingers against her neck, he checks her pulse. "No irregularities here." He places his hand on her forehead, noting that she has a fever; he next checks her wrists, noting that there are blue markings where the shackles once secured her to the rack. As a follow-up, Shiro checks her ankles, clicking his tongue in frustration as it becomes clear that the markings are present here as well. "This is a right mess." Looking to Alfyn, as well as Cyrus, Ophilia, and Primrose, he says, "Therese is suffering from a combination of exhaustion and aether deprivation."

Alfyn adopts an expression of concern. "I can't say I've ever heard of that second one. Can you tell me more about it?"

"I'm not sure how common it is in this world, but in Erdboden, aether deprivation is common enough. It occurs most often in fledgling scholars and mages who overexert themselves when casting magic." He looks to his companion. "In the case of my companion here, she was likely sapped of her internal magic supply by the shackles that bound her to that rack." Turning back to Alfyn, his expression boasts more confidence than it does concern. "I have a remedy for aether deprivation, but I'll need your help with other matters."

"Anything to help the patient."

"I must trouble you to apply healing balm to the four points upon the patient where she was shackled; you'll need enough for both wrists and both ankles." Alfyn takes to writing this information down, prompting Shiro to adjust his speaking pace as he continues. "I ask that you also prepare a hot pot of herbal tea; she has a fever."

"Right. Up here in the Highlands, it'd be better for her to sweat the fever out; the extra covers from the other bed should do the trick."

Shiro nods in turn. "I shall head downstairs to prepare the remedy I spoke of before. Once that is administered, we need only let her rest for a time." He places a hand on Alfyn's shoulder, a smile forming. "Thanks again, Alfyn; I appreciate your presence and assistance more than you realize." He then rushes out of the room, not giving Alfyn a chance to respond. The young apothecary sets out to prepare the healing balm first. To speed up the process, Ophilia boils some water to get a head start on the tea while Primrose readies a heated moist towel to place upon Therese's forehead.

"Well shucks. You'd think the guy's an apothecary himself."

Cyrus looks to the door, and then to his pupil. "Indeed. That young man has a keen eye, and is no doubt possessed of a swift mind." He rests a hand on his hip as his thoughts return to the battle that recently transpired. "I had suspected as much as early as our initial meeting, but after bearing witness to the speed at which he formulated a plan to dispatch our foes, there can be no doubt."

Taking a seat on the empty bed, Primrose lets out a sigh. "He's quite good at changing his own pace on the fly; his adaptable rhythm makes him a reliable ally in battle." She looks to Therese, who has yet to awaken. "He cares for his charge, too; color me surprised when I found out Therese hadn't paid him."

Cyrus expresses shock at this. "You speak truly?"

She nods. "I had figured the man was going to save a favor for later down the line; people of his talent and profession typically don't work out of the goodness of their hearts, after all." She looks to Alfyn, donning a grin. "Not everyone can be like our dear Alfyn."

"Shucks, Prim; you're gonna set the ants on me."

Her expression shifts to convey momentary shock. "Oh, right, I forgot about that, and when you need your focus, no less." She grins again, regaining her cool demeanor. "I shall save the praise for later."

Having finished preparing the healing balm, Alfyn sets to apply it on Therese's wrists and ankles. "That should do it."

Returning to the previous subject, Primrose looks to Ophilia and Cyrus as she says, "I think I had that Shiro all wrong; he seems decent enough."

Ophilia looks to her as she says, "I find it difficult to harbor doubts of him after what he said to that Yvon fellow." She shudders as she recalls the look on Shiro's countenance. "The two of you didn't see it, but the rage in his eyes was terrifying. I hadn't seen rage like that since Therion was robbed of his opportunity to seize the emerald dragonstone." She shakes her head, putting that memory out of mind in turn. "Whatever his feelings for Therese may be, I believe Shiro's espousing of justice is sincere."

Therese lets out a groan, alerting everyone that she has awakened. She lifts her head, though not by much, to look around the area; realizing that she is in her room at the inn, she heaves a sigh of relief before resting her head upon her pillow. Tired eyes gaze upon Cyrus, who takes a seat at her side to gently grab hold of her hand. A soft but weak smile traces upon her lips as she says, "You came to my rescue…"

"But of course, my girl; I could never leave you to such a fate." He smiles in turn, though there is a notable sadness in his eyes. "You saved my life, Therese; I am truly fortunate to have a pupil such as yourself. I can only ask your forgiveness for failing in such a way that it put you in this sort of danger to begin with."

"It's…not your fault, Professor; I- I'm the one who got you into this mess." She glances around the room, noting that someone is missing. "Wh- Where is Shiro? Did…please tell me he yet lives."

The man in question steps into the room armed with a serving tray. Upon his form is a pink apron, featuring large, bolded words that read, "Family Man". His serious countenance clashes heavily with his chosen attire, causing Primrose and Alfyn to turn their heads away as they snicker uncontrollably. Shiro walks over to Therese, gently setting the tray over her waist; he takes a seat beside her, his expression having shifted to something gentler as he places a hand over her forehead. "Your fever's already going down; that's good." Ophilia sets a cup of herbal tea on top of the serving tray; "Thank you, Sister Ophilia." Looking to Therese, he asks, "Are you well enough to feed yourself or shall I feed you?" A brief moment passes before Therese's entire face turns red. "Yikes. Guess I have my answer."

As he reaches for the bowl, Therese quickly pulls it away, taking up her spoon as she points it at him. "No, no, that's fine! I can feed myself!" Taking a look at the bowl's contents, she can see that what has been prepared for her is plum porridge topped with coconut oil, a generous serving of honey and sugar, and cinnamon. "This looks good…" She takes a single bite, her eyes regaining their sparkling luster in an instant. A wide smile forms on her face as her fingers curl. "That's delicious! I'll have to thank the innkeeper for cooking this later."

"I happen to be the chef, actually, though I do admit to having made use of the inn's food stock." Therese and the others look to him in surprise. "What? Why else would I be wearing the apron?"

Therese stares at him for a long moment before shifting her attention to the bowl of porridge. She looks to Shiro, then to the bowl, and back to Shiro once more. She quietly reaches for her cup of tea and takes a long sip. As she sets it down, she looks to Shiro once more as she gives a plain statement. "Marry me." The others are taken aback by this, with Ophilia going so far as to hide her face entirely.

Primrose slowly raises a hand as she says, "I'll have what she's having."

Shiro gently grabs hold of Therese's left hand, eliciting soft gasps from everyone in the room. The soft gaze in his eyes, as well as the eased expression he wears, brings a blush to Therese's cheeks; Ophilia's face, in turn, has gone completely red at this point, and though she wishes to excuse herself from the room, she cannot run the risk of missing what happens next. "A tempting offer from an even more tempting beauty, but I suggest you reconsider, Therese." She tilts her head at this, having not anticipated this response. Shiro's expression shifts, now conveying guilt, regret, fear, and sorrow in equal measure. He makes no effort to hide these emotions from her, nor does he endeavor to hide them from the four relative strangers present. "I…I am a dangerous man, one with dangerous enemies."

"I- I mean…I figured as much; I heard what the Thunderblade said to you as we prayed at the shrine."

"Ah, so you did." He rises from the bed, slowly slipping his hand away from Therese's grip. "Please wait a moment; I shall return shortly." True to his word, he returns shortly after his departure, armed with four more bowls of plum porridge, which he serves to his new acquaintances.

Sounds of delight can be heard from all four as they sample the porridge. Ophilia holds a hand to her cheek, a pleasant smile upon her countenance as she says, "I can understand Therese's response; this is heavenly."

A chuckle sounds from Primrose in turn. "It most certainly is delicious, I'll agree." She looks to Shiro, a grin on her face. "Not quite enough to earn my heart, but you have earned my stomach's favor, young man."

Shiro folds his arms as a proud grin traces upon his lips. "Heh, a smile and some words of gratitude? I'll take those just fine. Thank you."

In between spoonfuls, Alfyn says, "A cryin' shame the others ain't here to taste this." When Shiro adopts an inquisitive expression, he follows, "Oh, it's not just the four of us; our merry band totals at eight."

Cyrus takes up the thread as he adds, "Eight travelers, each with a unique set of talents. We complement each other well, I dare say."

Ophilia nods to this, a smile on her face. She takes a sip of her tea, setting it down as she looks to Shiro. "We've all offered to support each other on our respective journeys. Where one goes, the others will follow – that is the promise we made."

"That requires a great deal of trust." Shiro nods, as if reaffirming the notion to himself. "To believe in a stranger, entrusting your well-being to their support in combat…faith is a powerful shield indeed." Primrose's expression lights up at this; "Is something the matter, Primrose?"

"I- No, no; it's just…what you just said reminds me of my family's motto – 'Faith shall be your shield'. 'Tis something my late father often said to me."

Arching an eyebrow, Shiro asks, "Your father…is his name Geoffrey Azelhart by chance?" She nods, expressing surprise. "I learned of House Azelhart during my time in Stillsnow. When I first arrived in this world, I was found unconscious in the snow by a woman named Arianna." He folds his arms, a soft nostalgic smile beginning to form. "She was quite kind to me, and I fear that I have yet to properly repay her as my code demands. I will return to Stillsnow and see to rectifying that."

Primrose looks relieved by his words, having eased into a more comfortable bearing. The mischievousness that has been present in her voice up to this point; the playful grin she used to wear; and even the dominant aura she exudes, all have been dialed back to present her as an individual at ease. "So she is well; that is good to hear. I departed from Stillsnow recently, with my comrades in tow. I have not been graced with the opportunity to check in on Arianna since then. May I ask…"

"You are aware of her profession, yes?" Primrose nods. "Then you'll be pleased to know that her establishment is under new management; I personally saw to that." He pauses, waiting to see if anyone would present an inquiry; when it becomes clear that they attentively wait for him to continue, he follows, "It took a few weeks, but I did find someone worthy of running the brothel." Therese's face goes red at the word. "Back home, I have a friend; she runs the most popular brothel in the Land of Mages. She treats her workers well, as should any business owner. Hearing the tales of abuse from Arianna…it made my blood boil."

Ophilia finds her cheeks turning red again. "So you…um…have experience with brothels…"

He nods to her. "I do, yes." Her entire face goes red. "…wait, no, that is not what I meant!" He glances to see that Primrose's grin has returned. "I've never visited a brothel as a patron; my relationship with the owner, as well as her staff, is strictly from a business standpoint. They serve as part of my information network." He pauses, scratching at his cheek as he adds, "I do, however, admit to having worked there for a day." His eyes scan about the area to see that Therese has joined Ophilia in the red face squadron. Even Primrose is holding her hands to her cheeks. "Wait…dammit, it isn't how you think!"

"Well shucks, aren't you a man of many talents?"

"Doctor Greengrass, I assure you…I was filling in as a dancer for an employee who busted his leg. Dancing is all I did for that day; I offered nothing else." He heaves a sigh, rubbing the back of his head as he says, "I keep getting letters from male and female customers alike asking me to take the stage again."

Primrose tilts her head at this. "Hold a moment. Do you mean to say brothels in your homeland employ the likes of men and women?" Shiro nods. "And these brothels entertain clientele of men and women in turn?" He nods again. "Where are you from? I'd wager good coin that, if such a brothel truly existed, people from all over Orsterra would have heard of it." On this note, Shiro explains his origins as an interloper. Understandably, his four new acquaintances have trouble believing his tale; Therese comes to his aid, explaining that one of the deities of Orsterra refers to Shiro as an interloper in turn, lending credence to his claims. "By the gods…"

Cyrus' eyes have taken on a glint as he adjusts his posture to something more attentive. "There are many questions I'd like to ask you, my good man. When you can spare a moment, I'd love the opportunity to compare culture."

Shiro nods to this. "I was planning on asking the same of you, professor; you're a history teacher from what Therese has told me. There is much I can learn from you, and I'd be more than happy to trade knowledge."

"A most welcome proposition indeed! But before we can go any further…" He looks to Therese, who grants him her attention in turn. "Therese, my dear…you understand that, as your teacher, I must scold you for your reckless actions, yes?" She flinches at his tone, but nods in kind. "Be that as it may, one thing is also clear: Were it not for your bravery, I would have suffered in that dark pit for a time to come." A smile forms, much to his own chagrin. "I owe a debt of gratitude, my girl. I am scarcely in a position to make demands, but you must promise me that, should the need to undertake such actions arise in the future, you'll consult someone you trust."

"Y- Yes, of course, professor." She looks to Shiro, her expression turning bashful before she returns her gaze to Cyrus. "I was lucky to have met Shiro, but things…might not fall into my lap next time." Thinking on it, she says, "I should have told Princess Mary at least…I informed her of my journey, but not of its purpose." She dons a mischievous grin, one that is directed at Cyrus as she says, "But, I must admit…I did learn from the best."

Shiro and Primrose stifle a snicker at this as Cyrus rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. "I- I suppose you did, didn't you." He chuckles, taking hold of Therese's hand. "I am afraid that I must continue my journey, but I will endeavor to send letters." He closes his eyes, nodding to himself. "Yes, I'll include assignments to keep your mind sharp as well."

Shiro and Primrose face-palm at the notion, internally lamenting at Cyrus' obliviousness. Therese takes the comment in stride, a small smile tracing upon her lips as she lets out a sigh. "Thank you, Professor Albright; I look forward to that."

Folding his arms, Shiro says, "A strong woman if I've ever met one."

"Headmaster Yvon spoke of one more detail, sir." Seeing Cyrus' expectant countenance, she follows, "He said that he'd make way for a certain location once you were out of the way." She falls silent for a moment, hesitant to divulge the information that she has hoarded all this time. Thinking on it, she heaves another sigh. "Tell me, professor; your belief that knowledge is for one and all…is it all encompassing?"

"Indeed, my dear! Knowledge is not inherently evil; it only becomes such when put to work by miscreants harboring foul intent within their hearts."

"Then I suppose it could be said that withholding knowledge, even with good intentions, could lead to harm?"

"An astute assumption, my girl; you understand well!" Her face is adorned with a pained expression, causing concern to plaster itself upon Cyrus' countenance. "T- Therese? Are you taking to illness again? Pray, you should rest." She raises a hand to stop him, bringing pause.

"I'm alright. I- I just…you're getting involved in something dangerous again, I can tell. Even if I don't tell you the location I learned from the Headmaster, you'll learn of it in no time and make way. Professor…when I saw you in that dark pit, there was a crushing feeling in my heart." Fear takes hold, becoming present in her gaze. "What if I hadn't overheard that conversation? What if I didn't make it in time? You were kicked out of Atlasdam because of me, and I almost ran the risk of never seeing you again." A single tear streams from her eye, her voice threatening to break outright. She reins in her emotions, still with more to say. "I couldn't afford to let that happen; I still can't. Even so…" She sighs. "It would be wrong of me to keep this information from you, so I'll impart it, with the simple request that you come back safely."

"You have my word."

"The Headmaster said he'd make way for Duskbarrow, though I know not why."

"I shall arrange for someone to pick you up, my dear girl. Pray, rest here; one of my companions has business to attend to here in Stonegard as well, so we will remain for a time yet."

He then departs from the room, his comrades going with him. Alfyn informs Shiro of the location of their shared room at the inn, should the need for the apothecary arise in the future. Alone together again, Therese and Shiro sit in silence. "I truly love him, Shiro."

He chuckles. "Indeed. I wager you have time to win his heart. Even the most dedicated of scholars find time for loved ones. A 7-year age difference doesn't strike me as being too bad."

"Hm? Professor Albright is 30, not 25."

Shiro adopts a flabbergasted expression. "Surely you are taking the piss right now?" She shakes her head. "Damn, but the gods were generous with him."

"You've done so much for me, but might I ask another favor?" He nods to her, granting an expectant expression. "I would…like for you to travel with the professor; see to his safety."

"Should I not escort you back to Atlasdam first?"

"The professor will more than likely arrange for a few of Princess Mary's guardsmen to retrieve me." She giggles at the thought. "Oh the scolding that cousin of mine will give." Shiro expresses confusion at the familial title. "Had I not mentioned it? Princess Mary and I are distant relatives; she is my dear cousin."

Shiro's eyes widen as he drops to one knee and crosses his right arm over his chest. Hanging his head low, he offers an apology. "A thousand pardons, your grace! To think that I acted on such familiar terms with a noble…your patience speaks volumes of your generosity, but you should have alerted me much sooner."

"Um…please, don't worry about it. I'm not one for this sort of treatment; I'd much rather you keep to how you acted before."

"If that is what you wish, milady." He rises to his feet, looking to her as he asks, "Is there more I might give you before I speak with Professor Albright and his companions?" She shakes her head, smiling as she bids him a good evening. He nods in turn. "I'll be back before long. Feel free to slumber; I shall see to the dishes myself." He retrieves the empty bowls before departing from the room. After washing them downstairs, he makes way for the location Alfyn provided. He raps his knuckles on the door, soon being granted entry.

Stepping inside, Shiro is met with a large room, one that is certainly appropriate to house eight people. Within this room are the four people he's met thus far, along with four more and a snow leopard. Of the new faces, the first to catch his eye is a giant of man who stands taller than he; this man is much older in turn, boasting 35 years of age. This man sports hardened brown eyes akin to those of a seasoned warrior. His slick black hair is combed backwards, sporting white streaks here and there, though a strand is left sticking upwards, reminiscent of a cowlick. A scar runs from his left temple to his forehead. A blue tunic adorns his torso, with the metal shoulder guards that would accompany it resting off beside a sheathed long sword; a single metal bracer rests here in turn. His remaining attire – boots, pants, and shoes – are all made of leather.

Sitting by the window is another new face. This man looks to be 22. He harbors shaggy white hair that reaches down to the nape of his neck. The left side of his face is covered by a significant portion of his hair, obscuring his left eye. The right is visible, green in color, and seems to be studying Shiro in turn. A purple scarf adorns the man's neck, with a thick shawl of a lighter shade covering much of his upper body. Dark pants complement leather shoes, with a peculiar accessory, a metal bracelet, adorning his right wrist. He nods to Shiro, who nods in turn, but says nothing.

Next to catch Shiro's eye is a young woman of 18 organizing an assortment of items on her bed. A bright smile adorns her face, accentuated by her likewise bright green eyes. Short brown hair tops her head, with a brown hat hosting a yellow feather topping that in turn. Two locks of hair frame either side of her face, with some bangs in the middle joining them to form an 'M' shape. A large backpack rests at the side of her bed, no doubt meant to hold all of the items that were presently on the bed. She is garbed in a white dress that reaches down to just below her knees; its collar is popped upwards. Yellow ribbons are worn upon the sleeves of her dress, maintaining the puffed out appearance of her shoulders. A small brown leather vest covers her chest, accompanied by brown leather boots.

The final companion of his recently-met allies is a woman of 26 years, standing around the same height as he. A pair of green eyes meets his as his scanning gaze finally reaches her. They stare each other down for a brief moment, no more than a few seconds, trying to gleam whatever information is readily available. The woman's gaze is studious, boasting the focus of a huntress; though imposing, she does not exude an air of hostility. Her hair is a light brown, and is worn in a single, messy braid that gives her a wild appearance. The gray coat of a skinned beast is draped over her shoulders, somewhere between a scarf and a cape. A sleeveless beige dress, also made from animal skin, clings to her frame, pronouncing her muscular physique. A pair of black tights covers her lower body, with a pair of boots adorning her feet. These boots are covered in gray animal skin as well, no doubt keeping the wearer insulated in colder climates. The ensemble is made complete by a pair of brown fingerless gloves that cover the entirety of her forearms. A bow rests off to the side near the snow leopard, along with a quiver of arrows attached to a leather belt.

The two end their stare-down with a nod of acknowledgement, though no words are exchanged. The snow leopard rises from its position to walk over to Shiro. He takes a knee and removes his gauntlet, holding out his right hand so that the leopard may familiarize his scent. Upon judging him as a non-threat, the leopard lets out a meow in greeting. The meow reaches Shiro's ears as proper words, revealing the leopard is a female. Her perceived voice is smooth in its delivery, befitting the leader of a tribe. "Well met, human. I am Linde, companion of mine mistress, H'aanit."

Shiro takes to rubbing the leopard behind her ears, eliciting a purr as the creature lies down in front of him. "Linde, is it? A fine name; your mistress has taken excellent care of you." He looks up to the woman who stood beside the creature. "Am I to take it that you are H'aanit?"

She nods to him, her eyes expressing surprise. "I do not recallen having introduced myself. Telle me, traveler, how didst thou comen to know of my identity? And that of my companion in turn…"

"Considering all eight of you are here, I suppose this is an excellent moment for introductions." He rises to his feet, looking to all eight travelers as he says, "I am Cyrus Coelistis; I understand that you already have Professor Albright among your ranks, so I invite you to refer to me as Shiro instead."

The towering man garbed in blue is the first to step over, offering a hand to Shiro. "My companions were just informing us of the battle that transpired; I understand that you were a great help to them." Shiro takes hold of the man's hand, shaking it firmly. "A fine grip, lad. You have my thanks. I am Olberic Eisenberg, a…former knight of Hornburg, now lending his blade to defend these seven travelers."

The young woman tending to her belongings looks to Shiro, holding up a hand as a cheery expression beams from her countenance. "Heya! The name's Tressa; I'm the group's merchant, so let me know if you spot any good deals."

"A traveling merchant, at your age?" He chuckles, a nostalgic smile forming. "Can't say I'd have that kind of courage, young lady. I'm something of a merchant myself, but I don't travel to peddle my wares."

"That right? We should trade secrets; I won't be stingy if you won't."

"I don't mind; here's hoping I have something of value to offer."

The young man sitting at the window elects to remain seated, but grants Shiro his attention all the same. "The name's Therion; I prefer to work from the shadows, so don't expect to see me around that often."

"Hm, do you work as a Thief or an Assassin?" When Therion responds with the former, Shiro nods to him. "Duly noted; the pleasure is mine, Therion."

Ophilia's eyes light up, though for what reason the others are not privy to. Gesturing towards Shiro and Therion, she smiles as she says, "I've finally figured it out!" They all grant her their attention. "When Shiro started threatening Yvon, he sounded terribly familiar; now I realize that it's because he and Therion share a similar vocal tone." Therion shades his eyes at this, letting out a scoff. Ophilia lets out a huff in turn. "Such little faith; I'll prove it! Both of you, tell me how you feel about the sun." The two exchange brief glances with one another before turning their confused countenances to Ophilia. "Go on…"

In unison, without actually meaning to, they both say, "The sun is ghastly; I much prefer the light of the moon." Everyone's eyes go wide, including those of the pair, at the similarities in their tone; even their inflections were comparable, though Shiro is notably more soft-spoken. Therion chuckles at this, turning to the window as he says, "Nice meeting you, Shiro."

He chuckles in turn. "Likewise, Therion." Directing his attention to H'aanit, he clears his throat before offering an apologetic bow. "Pray, madam, forgive my tarrying in answering your inquiry. I'm sure you've all taken notice, but my left eye is a curious one."

H'aanit nods to the notion, folding her arms as she says, "Aye, 'tis not often one bears witness to an eye fostering a rune. Why, the pattern looken to be engraved; pardon mine rudeness, but the sight is unnerving, should one staren for too long."

Shiro shakes his head to her. "No offense taken; I know full well how this eye unsettles people." He pauses, considering how he might explain the boons provided by this eye. "This Runic Eye allows me to read the flow of aether, granting a myriad of boons. Among these boons is the ability to translate the will and intent of anything that has a soul, allowing me to communicate with animals, plants, trees, and the like." Pointing at a gemstone among Tressa's belongings, he says, "If you would hand me that stone, I shall give a proper demonstration."

She walks over to him to turn over the stone, stepping away as she says, "Skytone, give him enough info to make it convincing." Tressa then takes a step back, her eyes glowing with curiosity.

Holding the skystone to his ear, Shiro closes his eyes to listen to what the gem has to tell him. A few moments pass before he nods, handing the stone back to Tressa. "You acquired that stone in a town called Quarrycrest. Here, you engaged in a merchant's duel with a man named Ali, whom you lost to." Tressa remains straight-faced, not granting any real indication of his accuracy so far. "That skystone in particular was the one you put up to display the quality of your wares; it was beyond disappointed to have lost to another, and hopes that you will eventually put it to a purpose. You carried that stone with you as you engaged a man who unfairly lorded over the town and its people." Tressa holds up a hand to stop him.

"Yeah…this guy's the real deal." Her allies put forth no further objections. "So what brings you here?"

"An offer, though it is more akin to a request…" He takes to explaining his situation to the four people unfamiliar with him, knowing full well that this story will be less believable than that of his left eye.


	4. On the Hunt

**Chapter 4: On the Hunt**

Shiro concludes the remainder of his introduction, glancing around to see that everyone is still with him. "That's about it." He rests his back upon the wall near the door, not wanting to overreach himself by sitting too closely amongst the others. "As per Therese's request, I am here to offer my assistance."

Olberic, like his comrades, is having a difficult time processing the information. "A warrior from another realm; to think that such a thing were possible."

Therion has since turned away from the window, facing Shiro in full with a direct gaze. He folds his arms, his expression neutral. "It sounds to me like you're not used to being followed when you world hop."

Shiro nods to the assessment, his features conveying his troubles. "To be true. I warp between worlds using the power of dark magic, which is not widely practiced in Erdboden due to the risks it brings. There are only two others I know who can harness the darkness to warp, my master and my own apprentice in the dark arts, and they'd just warp to me directly."

H'aanit folds her arms as well, thinking on what has been told. "Thou were informed by the Thunderblade that four others are here, yes?" He nods to her. "I find it troubling that these four wouldst cast their lot with the Obsidians; that maketh thee another who would becomen their potential target."

"Another?" H'aanit nods, directing his attention to Primrose. "The former brothel owner…the one they called Rufus? He was among their number?"

"That's right. He is one of three men marked with the crow, a trio of bastards who took my father's life." Primrose shakes her head. "I am on my way to Noblecourt following a lead I obtained from him. I know not what sort of role he played for the Obsidians, but I assume he was high up the chain."

"Hm…" He folds his arms, closing his eyes to think on the matter. "If four of my enemies are backing the Obsidians, that would mean I've indirectly set trouble upon your lot." He shakes his head to the notion. "That will not stand. If I didn't have a reason to stand with you before, I certainly do now. If you'll have me, my katana and bow will assist you."

Alfyn arches an eyebrow to the mention of a bow. "Uh…I'm a bit young for my eyes to be goin' bad, but I don't see any bow on ya, Shiro."

He looks about his person, only just now realizing that his bow is not present. "Oh…so it isn't. Uh…hold a moment. This should work…" He snaps the fingers of his right hand before holding out both of his arms. In doing so, he causes a bow and quiver full of arrows to fall into them, causing his allies to jump backwards. "There we are." The quiver is secured behind his waist, with the mouth pointing towards his left hand. He holds the bow in his right before securing it to his person. "Alchemy's Guidance, I call it; a bow of my own design."

Olberic asks, "You know a blacksmith?"

"I am one, as well as a goldsmith. My late parents taught me their crafts, and I honor them by carrying on the family business." Pulling an arrow from his quiver, he shows it to his new comrades. The arrow is not composed of wood and metal, appearing to be a glass vessel filled with a blue liquid. "My arrows are also different; I use these on missions requiring stealth." H'aanit draws closer to get a better look, which he facilitates by handing her the arrow outright. "These arrows are not affected by wind deviance, and contain their aether within, preventing magic detectors from learning of your position."

Another chuckle escapes Therion. "So you're the assassin, huh?"

"I've done that sort of work before, yes, but it's definitely not my profession." Receiving his arrow back from H'aanit, he follows, "I use these sparingly when I'm out on a hunt, for they have to be crafted through alchemy. I'm not yet certain if the materials to synthesize these exist in this world so I've refrained from firing them. Unlike regular arrows, these cannot be salvaged once they hit their mark."

"Thou art a hunter, Shiro?"

He nods. "I spend a great deal of my days in the Province of Nature. There, I was taught how to live amongst the land, to maintain the balance of the wild despite being with the species capable of bending it to their will." A nostalgic smile forms as he explains this portion of his home, a smile returned by H'aanit as she finds herself enthralled with his explanation. "I learned many tricks to being resourceful. Those who live among the land should take only what they need, never in excess."

"This Province of Nature soundeth like a wonderful place. Pray that you never forgeten your teachings." He nods to her advice, but hasn't the words to voice a proper reply. "Cyrus hath informed you of our prolonged stay in Stonegard, yes?" Shiro nods again. "The visit's prolonging lies with me; I am here searching for my master, a hunter named Z'aanta." She looks to the rest of her comrades as she says, "My investigation hath led to the Spectrewood north of town." She pats Linde on the head, eliciting a purr from her companion. "We hath already cleared a path into the woods; I have returned to assemble a party."

Shiro looks about himself before donning a grin. "Well I suppose I am already dressed for the occasion. If you'll have me…"

"Certainly. Two slots remainen." Alfyn and Therion step forward. "Your company is most welcome, my friends; leten us be off."

Cyrus expresses concern. "H'aanit, would it not be better to wait until sunrise? It will be dark soon."

"T'would be unwise to leten the trail go cold, Cyrus. If things becomen too dangerous; we shalle turn back." The man offers no further resistance; "I thanketh thee for thy concern, my friend." Grabbing her belongings, she leads her three comrades out the door. At the front of the inn is a species of Direwolf native to Orsterra. It looks to H'aanit, offering a single bark. "Yes, Hägen; I thanketh thee for thy patience. Our hunt shalle continue."

Due to a recent landslide destroying the fastest path to the Spectrewood, H'aanit must lead her group through an alternative path through a cluster of trees south of the bridge. The once rocky terrain of the Highlands has started to give way to wild grass, soon transitioning once more into a dense forest lined with deep green trees. It only takes five minutes worth of travel into this forest for almost all traces of sunlight to vanish. The party can feel a myriad of eyes gazing upon them from the foggy shadows, though they are unfettered.

Shiro and H'aanit silently observe the surrounding area, with Therion keeping watch for potential ambushes. Before long, Shiro holds up a hand to halt his comrades. He crouches low as he moves forward, prompting his companions to do the same. He brushes his hand against some twigs and leaves littering the ground, revealing that they cover a skid mark. "It would appear that something dragged its feet." He takes a few brief whiffs around himself, taking to holding his chin as he ponders. "It smells of tree bark, rather than fur or blood."

Alfyn asks, "You don't think whatever left this trail tried to mask its scent, do ya?"

"I doubt it. Mayhap the scent is from whatever left the tracks…" His face scrunches up in disdain. "That would mean there are sentient trees roaming about in these woods."

Therion's face scrunches up in turn, though this is hidden by his scarf. "Are you telling me that a bunch of walking trees might try to kill us?"

"Afraid so." A groan escapes Therion, to which Shiro can only nod. "I feel the same way; I have no shortage of bad memories of such trees from my adventures in the Yggdrasil Labyrinths." His mind turns to an encounter from not too long ago, one where a seed he and his guild mates had planted instantly grew into a giant tree that made an attempt on their lives. "Ugh." He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought. "No more Rampaging Ropers."

The group presses on, this time with H'aanit taking point in the search. She points out manmade footprints that follow a path lined by still-lit torches. Before pressing too far ahead, she can hear a low, barely audible growl from Linde, which alerts her of an oncoming threat. She retreats into the thicket, with Alfyn and Therion following. Shiro takes to the opposite side of the path, quickly scaling a tree to conceal himself amongst its branches. To their surprise, he makes no sound. Their patience is rewarded, for the generators of the sound they heard step into view.

Up ahead is a group of four enemies. Three of the creatures are of the same species, and look to be some sort of colony of fungi that has grown so much as to render its host unrecognizable. Alfyn swallows a lump of fear in his throat, his mind thinking back on the patients he's treated who suffered similar fungal invasion. ' _To think that's what might've become of those people I saved…_ ' At the head of the formation is a large, humanoid tree. ' _Well I'll be…_ '

"That tree acten as leader of the group."

Therion asks, "We engagin'?" H'aanit shakes her head to the prospect, to which Therion nods as he pulls out a piece of paper. Upon it, he writes a simple note warning Shiro that they will not engage the enemy. He then ties this message to a dagger before quickly reflecting light from its blade to catch his ally's attention. As Shiro glances, he tosses the dagger, expressing surprise as Shiro catches it. "His reaction time's pretty good." Shiro reads the letter, giving his allies a nod of acknowledgement; to their surprise, he writes a reply before tossing the dagger back, which Therion catches in turn.

The reply reads: "I shall disperse the group; it would be troublesome if they amassed more followers later."

H'aanit nods to this assessment. "But how does he intendeth to disperse them?" As if hearing her question, Shiro immediately puts his supposed plan into motion. H'aanit and the others hold their position in favor of watching the new recruit prove his worth. As she observes her comrade, H'aanit can see that Shiro is sprinkling some sort of powder onto a metal arrowhead. ' _So he'll be using a standard arrow…_ ' The bag of powder is tightly sealed before being secured to his quiver. She watches as he swiftly scrapes the arrow against the tree as if it were a flint stone, which causes the arrowhead to ignite into flames. ' _That was not sorcery; I must asken him of that trick later._ '

Nocking his arrow, Shiro takes aim at the center of the humanoid tree's form. ' _When the leader ignites, the subordinates will disperse; I'll quell the flames and pick off the stragglers that move in unfavorable directions afterwards._ ' He releases his arrow, letting it fly true to its target. The wandering tree is set ablaze in an instant, its cries alerting its comrades that something is amiss. To the party's benefit, the three fungal creatures all scurry off in the same direction, leaving the suffering tree alone. Shiro braces himself after holstering his bow, right hand resting upon the hilt of his katana.

He tucks in his legs, bracing himself against the side of the tree branch, before springing forward to kick off from it. Alfyn blinks, losing track of his new ally, only to have his attention drawn to where the burning tree is located. Shiro is here, slowly rising to his feet as he sheathes his weapon. As a soft click sounds through the thicket, a heavy gust of wind blows from the direction Shiro traveled, snuffing out the flames he created just as the humanoid tree loses its life and collapses to the ground. He is joined by his comrades, stepping aside as they allow Alfyn to procure usable materials from the fallen.

"Heh, not bad there, new guy. I guess Primrose wasn't exaggerating when she said you were quick on your feet."

Voicing her agreement, H'aanit says, "Indeed. Thou dispersed the horde and prevented a forest fire." She watches as Shiro recovers his arrow from the hide of the deceased tree. The wooden shaft is partially scorched, but appears usable still. She chuckles. "Managed to retrieven thy arrow as well." She slaps a hand to his back, causing Shiro to exhale air as if he were a balloon. "Though art impressive indeed." Her praise is interrupted as the direwolf directs her attention to a path. "Ah, what is it, Hägen?" The hound leads the way, eventually bringing the group to a clearing that is lacking greenery compared to the rest of the forest preceding it. Taking a knee, H'aanit takes note of markings on the ground. "A battle was fought here."

She directs the group's attention to several other markings, supporting her claim. Shiro notes that, "Damage to the area is focused to a single side. Considering the footprints we followed on the way here, I'd wager humans were involved."

"Indeed, Shiro. In addition to the faded footprints, the rocks are marked with nicks from steel weapons." The light from a nearby torch is reflected by something that catches her eye. She steps over to the source, taking a knee to better study it. Before her is an arrow, sporting traits that she recognizes all too well. "This fletching…'tis one of Master's arrows. He was among those who fought here."

As H'aanit rises to her feet, Therion asks, "You think he was fighting that Redeye you told us about?"

"It is possible." She points ahead, noting that traces of a former presence lead further in. "We must continue to followe the trail." Just as she takes a single step, she is brought to a pause as a guttural bellow resounds throughout the area. She looks up to see a giant creature sporting a head of antlers standing atop a cliff. The creature has the bearings of a moose, but its body is composed entirely of bark; its yellow eyes shimmer with malignant purpose as it looks down upon its four unwelcome intruders. "The Lord of the Forest?" The creature bellows again before jumping down from its perch to bar the path. "And in a foul temper, no less." Shiro takes to the helm of the formation, Alfyn close behind. Therion waits at a medium distance, gauging Alfyn's first move before making his own.

Scanning the creature with his eye, Shiro says, "This Lord of the Forest is weak to Swords, Axes, Fire, and Light." He shrugs as he follows, "I suppose the middle two should have been obvious, what with this being made of bark…" He clicks his tongue in frustration. "I won't be of much use as far as guard breaking is concerned."

Alfyn reaches into his medicine bag to pull out some base materials to work with. "I'll whip somethin' up in a jiffy." True to his claim, he tosses a bag into the air, exposing his allies to some sort of mist that energizes them. He looks to Therion and says, "That's your cue, pal!"

Therion grits his teeth before stepping in to perform Sealticge's Seduction. ' _I cannot believe I lost that bet; last time I ever make a wager with Primrose around…_ ' He dances quite well, despite himself, bestowing the effects of the dance onto Shiro. Pointing at his comrade, his voice sinks into a growl. "Not a word; just do your thing."

Shiro nods, focusing his strength to engulf his form in the aetherial red flames he harnessed hours prior in the battle with Yvon. He assumes a countering stance, bestowing the effects of Mirror Moon onto his allies in turn. "Let's begin." The Lord of the Forest bellows a roar, causing two of the humanoid trees to rise from the ground beneath it. Shiro shakes his head as he says, "No, bad lord; don't do that." Suddenly feeling his vision improving, he glances to see that H'aanit, whose form is likewise engulfed in red aetherial flames, is focusing her gaze upon the enemy group. ' _A…party-wide buff to accuracy and critical hit rate? Hm…a combined version of the skills available to the Snipers of Tharsis._ '

With the battle set to begin proper, Therion foregoes a dance in favor of charging in to deliver a swing of his knife upon the Lord of the Forest. Unbeknownst to the target, he has coated his dagger with a lingering blue substance, pasty in its viscosity, to mark points upon the creature's form that are more susceptible to damage. ' _I see through your defenses._ ' He makes a retreat, taking to the shadows.

Shiro boosts once more before stabbing his katana into the ground to cause the magic circle for Hawk Eye to appear beneath every member of his party. Curiously, he manages to keep the circle from glowing, allowing Therion's position to remain concealed. Curious still, Shiro can feel the boost to his ability to determine critically weak areas that H'aanit provided disappear before being promptly replaced with the effects of Hawk Eye. ' _Alright, so buffs don't stack in this world; any similar effects are simply extended or overwritten if a stronger buff is applied._ ' Noticing that his visual clarity is retained, he concludes that, ' _Composite buffs yield separate components; I can upgrade the Critical Hit buff without canceling the Accuracy Buff. Good to know._ '

Alfyn follows this up by concocting a bottle filled with a cloudy black substance, which he tosses at the enemy. The bottle shatters upon hitting the hard ground, dispersing a black cloud that lingers for but a moment before dissipating on its own. Left in its wake are the enemies, who now frantically trash about. "Heh, left 'em in the dark."

Seizing the opportunity, H'aanit rushes into the fray to setup some sort of trap near the Lord of the Forest. She retreats to her allies, making it to Shiro's side just as the Lord of the Forest triggers her trap. The creature finds its legs impeded, even after it manages to free itself of the trap. A devilish smirk forms on H'aanit's face. "Better than a snare."

Shiro chuckles in turn, though there is a tinge of fear that H'aanit doesn't quite pick up on. ' _Glad they're on my side._ ' From the corner of his eye he can see that the bark-covered moose is charging towards him and H'aanit. He intentionally drops his sheathed katana on the ground before taking H'aanit into his arms and jumping away to safety, dodging the rampaging creature. He sets her down without a word before warping back to where his katana was dropped. In a single motion, he draws his blade to deliver a counter attack to the beast that tried to strike him. A flash of gray overtakes Shiro's form, though his allies know not what this flash signifies.

The creature bellows a roar as it turns its head to look behind it. Though it cannot see Shiro, it knows he is there, and gives a commanding bellow to the two treants. Heeding the call, they both extend their arms to strike Shiro's general location. To H'aanit's surprise, their attacks appear to be quite close to the mark. "Be wary, Shiro!"

He glances behind him to see that both attacks are fast approaching. ' _Not good enough._ ' He turns to face the Lord of the Forest, electing to kick off the creature to propel himself into the air above the treants' arms. On the way down, he performs a drawing slash to sever the limbs that failed to strike him, eliciting cries of pain from the treants. ' _Is there a way I might contribute to striking weaknesses…_ ' A thought occurs to him. He focuses on channeling aether into the blade of his katana, which seems to work. ' _It will only be good for a single swing, but it's better than being of no help at all._ '

Therion leaps from his hiding spot to perform a brief dance that imbues H'aanit with a surge of strength. He then flees to his shrubbery once more; his allies can't tell if he's taking advantage of the area to exploit the enemy or if he's just hiding his own embarrassment. Entering a drawing stance, Shiro focuses aether into the blade of his sheathed katana once again. This time, the effort is not for practice, but for actual effect. His blade is freed, unleashing a torrent of flame that licks at the forms of all three enemies. The flames fade as quickly as they arrived, but the pain they inflicted remains.

Alfyn and H'aanit unleash a barrage of axe swings upon the Lord of the Forest, forcing the creature to make a retreat; this act conveys that its defenses are on their last hinges. The creature looks to the treant pair supporting it, somehow knowing of their location despite its vision being impaired. Alfyn says, "I don't like the look it's givin' those trees, H'aanit."

"Nor I, Alfyn. One last strike shoulde leave it defenseless, but who to deliver the strike…" Therion emerges from cover, tossing a red stone at the bark-covered moose. The creature recoils, bellowing in agony. "That will doe." Alfyn concocts another energizing mist in the form of his pomegranate panacea.

Shiro, knowing that the time has come to unleash all of the damage he can, elects to focus the energy within himself to engulf his body in the aetherial blue and green flames his comrades have harnessed. ' _These flames can bolster just about any action, not just Divine Skills._ ' Gazing upon the defenseless target, his Runic Eye conveys surprising information he hadn't noticed in the battle with Yvon. ' _Upon shattering an enemy's guard, it becomes weak to everything._ ' A primal roar escapes his throat, giving his allies pause as they gaze upon him with widened eyes. ' _That…that was involuntary; is that what I'm going to do every time I summon that inner strength?_ ' Sinking into his drawing stance, he hovers his right hand above the hilt. His voice is almost identical to Therion's as he motions towards the enemy. "I'll rend you asunder!"

The Wanderer takes a step forward, disappearing from sight entirely. An audible click resounds through the battlefield, followed shortly by the sound of a blade slicing against the air; this sound is accompanied by several visible ripples that tear into the forms of the Lord of the Forest and its subordinates. Shiro reappears beside H'aanit, crouched to the ground and in the process of sheathing his weapon. When the next audible click graces her ears, the treants fall to the ground, having been cut to pieces. The Lord of the Forest still stands, however, as defenseless as it was before.

H'aanit and Shiro share a silent glance. The former nods to the latter before calling upon her own inner strength to envelop her form with the aetherial blue and green flames. In contrast to Shiro's primal fury, H'aanit exudes a powerful calm demeanor. "Holden back nothing." She turns her head to whistle at the path the party used to reach this place. In just a few seconds, a large lizard with a gaping maw emerges. It charges into the fray, extending its tongue towards the Lord of the Forest with such speed as to make it comparable to a speeding arrow. Its tongue strikes the chest of the creature twice; once to crack the bark protecting the interior, and the second to pierce the heart. The Lord of the Forest gives one final, piteous bellow as it hits the ground, dead. "I honor you, my quarry."

The Salamander summoned by H'aanit lets loose a triumphant roar before disappearing into the thicket. Therion emerges from his hiding place to rejoin his allies. Looking to Shiro, he says, "OK, I admit that Ophilia might've been on to something." Linde and Hägen emerge from their shared cover, approaching Therion. He takes a knee to pet them both, chuckling to himself. "Yeah, a shame you two didn't get to help out." Scratching beneath Linde's chin, he follows, "Our little kitten here could have put in some decent work chipping away at that wooden moose."

"Our foe was formidable indeed, but t'was not the Redeye that Master sought." After assessing any injuries the group might have sustained, the party continues forward down the path once barred by the Lord of the Forest. Their previous battlefield transitions into another clearing, where a lone stone statue wielding a bow can be seen. "Wait…Master?!" She and the party rush towards the statue to investigate. The features and details of this statue suggest the subject is a gruff older sort; he is garbed in hunter garments, similar to H'aanit. "This is Master…but frozen, petrified in stone! What unholy thing could have happened here?"

Studying the statue, Alfyn and Shiro both shake their heads at the conclusion they've drawn. The former says, "There's nothing I can do about this with the materials I have on hand. I'm so sorry, H'aanit."

"Pray, do not blamen yourself, Alfyn." Looking to Shiro, she takes note of his contemplative stance. "Shiro, please do not troublen yourself with this."

He glances at her, offering a nod before putting a momentary cease to his ponderings. "Right. This can be addressed later." He turns his head to find that an arrow is embedded in a nearby tree. "Judging from the statue's stance, it is safe to assume that Master Z'aanta fired this arrow as he was turned to stone." He removes the arrow, noting that the effects of petrifaction have not extended to his form. "A note is tied to the shaft." He removes the note and turns it over to H'aanit. "I'm sure the contents are meant for your eyes rather than my own."

She nods as she accepts the note. It reads, "To whomever readest this…Like as not, thou foundest this next to a stone figure. That's me, the hunter Z'aanta, in the flesh – ah, so to speake." H'aanit heaves a sigh at this, none too pleased with her master's effort to include japes in a letter this important. "I was commissioned by the Knights Ardante to hunten the beast they callen Redeye, a beast that hath left me in this unfortunate state. Among Redeye's formidable powers is the ability to petrify. Already, my feet hath turned to solid rock."

Shiro's eyes narrow at this. "I suspected as much, but it would appear that the effects of this creature's petrifaction are not instantaneous."

Continuing her read, "I have but a short time to penne this message before the curse overtaketh me completely. In a village called Stillsnow there is a seer by the name of Susanna. Surely she shall knoweth what to don about this petrifaction. It is a faint hope, but the only one that remaineth to me. This beast cannot be allowed to runneth amok. It is far too dangerous, too savage."

Folding his arms, Therion says, "Gotta agree with the old timer on that one."

"Praye helpeth me. Not for my sake, but for the innocents who dieth if this creature is not putten down. And H'aanit, if thou art reading this – praye forgivest this old man for not keeping that promise…" A pained expression overtakes H'aanit's features as she grasps the meaning of the message. The note ends there as she lets her arm fall limply to her side. "That old fool. Even as he was turning to stone…" Hägen lets out a growl, catching her attention. She kneels beside him as she says, "I understand that you wishen to stay and watch over him; that is fine. I shall seeke out this seer." Therion and Alfyn are the first to depart from the clearing, with H'aanit motioning to follow suit until she notices that Shiro is still studying the stone statue of her master. "Shiro."

Her voice, firm yet concerned, breaks his concentration. "Oh, we're leaving? My apologies." He steps over to her side, giving a nod as they begin walking together. "He can be restored; of this I am certain."

She glances at him, but says nothing. ' _Does he speake to liften my spirits; I should telle him that I am not so fragile._ '

"My words may strike you as hollow, given that I am still but a stranger. That is fine for the moment; I'll prove my sincerity in time with action." He falls silent for but a moment, pondering his next choice of words. "I can tell that man is like family to you…losing those close to you; 'tis a truly painful feeling, often leaving a hole in the heart that can never truly be filled." Glancing at her companion again, she can see a tinge of pain in his visage. There is something else there, however; a flame, faint but burning, kindling within a resolute stare; his voice conveys this resolution in turn. "My past failings are my own, but I can see to preventing others from suffering as I did."

' _Perhaps…I was mistaken._ ' He looks to her, that fire in his gaze burning stronger than before. Even without speaking, H'aanit knows full well the promise Shiro intends to make. It brings a smile to her face as she places a hand on his shoulder. "Thou art a welcome companion on this journey, Shiro."

"I should hope to prove useful. I fear Master Z'aanta is too far gone to be cured by traditional remedies; had we arrived as he was turning, he could have been spared sooner." He shakes his head. "Alas, needs must we slay the bringer of this malady, and slay it we shall." He nods to himself, though it is more so for self-affirmation. "You won't face that beast alone; I shall stand with you."

For a moment, H'aanit is unable to voice a reply, creating a lingering silence between the two. She rectifies this shortly before the pair catches up to Therion and Alfyn. "Thankye, Shiro."

* * *

 **Imbue** : Allows Shiro to strike all enemies with a standard attack using a chosen element. ( _Talent_ )  
 **Flowing Tide** : Gain augmented Evasion upon evading an attack. ( _Support Skill_ ) [The Active Skill that unlocked this Support Skill was not put to use in the chapter; it will be properly covered in the future.]


	5. For Stability

Story Notes: _This chapter will spoil...basically everything relevant to Olberic's Chapter 3, so I advise readers to put this one on hold if you want to experience the story in-game for yourselves. As for what's next, the coming chapters will cover Tressa's Chapter 4, with Alfyn's Chapter 2 and Ophilia's Chapter 3 following after._

* * *

 **Chapter 5: For Stability**

As the party exits the Spectrewood, returning to the rugged path to Stonegard, Shiro has finished explaining – mostly to H'aanit – how he fashioned a flaming arrow. "I see. So thou sprinklen that powder upon thy arrowhead, likening it to a flintstone. Mighten this trick worke if thy arrowhead is maden of sharpened stone?" Shiro nods to her. "Where might one finde this powder?"

"Of that, I am uncertain. Orsterra does not yet have a culture of firearms, and I've yet to discern if any form of gunpowder has been invented." His expression conveys concern. "I am…hesitant to introduce something of that nature to a world that may not yet be ready for it; 'tis not my place."

Looking to Shiro, Therion says, "I noticed that arrow of yours didn't leave much smoke behind, either; that a property of the powder?"

"Yes, 'tis known as cordite." He takes a moment to think, directing his gaze up to the gradually darkening orange sky as he walks. "Hm…one could make a substitute in the form of oil." Bringing his gaze back down to mid-level, he looks amongst his comrades. "The oil contained within orange rinds is flammable."

H'aanit nods to the information as she says, "T'would be easy enough to harvest."

Alfyn asks, "Any medical applications I should know about?"

After taking a moment to think on it, Shiro says, "I'd have to ask my sister, as she's more knowledgeable on the subject than I. However, I can tell you that citrus oil is bad for the skin." Alfyn arches an eyebrow at the notion. "It dissolves the protective oils the human body naturally produces, increasing one's chances of skin irritation."

Alfyn writes this information down. "That could help me with a diagnosis down the line."

"In Erdboden, citrus oil is primarily harvested for cleaning products, though some associates of mine in the market for pesticide development have recently discovered that the oil helps with quelling ant infestations."

Therion asks, "How does that work? Even if you kill the ants with it, wouldn't they just come back?"

"I asked the same thing…they didn't have an explanation at the time."

A chuckle escapes the Thief. "Can't win 'em all, I guess." The group returns to the inn shortly after the night blankets the town of Stonegard in its umbral veil. Therion and the rest of his trio part ways with Shiro, who makes way for the room he shares with Therese. Stepping into the room he shares with his seven companions, Therion makes way for the window. Taking a seat, he can see that the moon is up in the sky tonight. ' _Worth it every time._ ' Linde takes to lounging beside him, prompting the man to scratch behind her ear. "Heh, you're a cat with good taste, I'll give you that." He works with H'aanit and Alfyn to explain the events of their absence. When the others are brought up to speed, he says, "Guess we'll be hitting up Stillsnow again soon."

Olberic says, "We would be close by en route to Noblecourt as well." Looking to Cyrus, he follows, "We would have to pass through Atlasdam on the way, would we not?" Cyrus nods to him. "Perhaps we could drop off your pupil instead of sending for an escort? She already has a capable guardian in Shiro, who will be traveling with us when we depart."

"Hm…I would feel more assured guarding her personally."

A smirk finds its way onto Olberic's face as he folds his arms. "Truth be told, I am looking forward to observing the lad in combat. Mayhap I can learn a few foreign techniques." He looks to Tressa as he asks, "Actually, your Merchant's Fair is coming up in Grandport soon, is it not?"

"Yep, and we gotta hit up Goldshore on the way back for Ophilia and Alfyn." She adopts a contemplative stance. "When I think about how long it might take us, it might be better for the professor's student to wait for someone else." She looks to Cyrus as she asks, "Have you sent the letter yet?"

"I planned to leave it with the morning courier, but now I am no longer certain." He gestures a hand as he follows, "If Therese's stubbornness is going to persist as I anticipate, it truly would be safer to keep her nearby, especially with Shiro in tow." He shakes his head. "I shall discuss the matter with the two come the morrow." True to his word, Cyrus departs from his shared room after breakfast tomorrow morning, intent on consulting Shiro and Therese. ' _Sir Olberic was absent this morning; up early training, no doubt._ ' He knocks upon the door to his pupil's room, though it is to be met with no answer. ' _Therese was never a morning person, but is Shiro asleep as well?_ '

A sweep of the premises reveals that neither Therese nor Shiro is currently in bed, nor are they inside the building. Out back, near the inn's well, he finds Therese sitting upon a bench, attentively watching as Shiro and Olberic take practice swings. Olberic wields his signature long sword, as is within Cyrus' expected parameters. Shiro, however, is wielding what looks to be a Mainz-type Gladius, rather than his katana. Electing to hold his position to observe from a distance, Cyrus notes another curious element. The battle cries and grunts of exertion he's grown used to hearing during Olberic's practice are absent. Shiro and his companion take their swings in silence, with the only observable exertion coming from Olberic's pronounced exhales. The man inhales as he preps his blade, exhaling during the execution of a swing.

The two cease their practice five minutes after Cyrus' arrival, and though the effort did not strike the scholar as being more strenuous than Olberic's usual routine, he can see that his companion is sweating more so than usual. He steps forward, catching the attention of his pupil. "Ah, good morning, Professor Albright; did you sleep well?"

"Indeed, my dear; my slumber was most energizing. And you, my dear girl? How are you feeling?"

Therese flexes the muscles of her right arm, donning a wide and bright smile in turn. "I feel great! Never better, if I'm honest."

"I am delighted to hear it." Looking towards Shiro and Olberic, he notes that the two are presently engaged in conversation. "From whence did Shiro procure that sword?"

"A portal of darkness; I believe it's one of his weapons from Erdboden." Looking to Cyrus, she follows, "He said that his katana was ill-suited for the exercise he wished to teach Sir Olberic." When Cyrus requests elaboration, she smiles at him before beginning her own miniature lecture.

Olberic, having finished wiping his face with a cold towel, heaves a sigh. "An interesting exercise, to be true. To exhale in short bursts as one delivers a swing…who taught you this technique?"

"My mother is the one who taught me the basics of combat. This technique is an adaptation of a method used to improve the power of a fighter's punches." He wipes his own face, feeling another batch of sweat threatening to fall from his brow. He exhales in turn, starting to feel the toll of his workout. "You're probably exhausted after that."

"To my surprise, yes; I had not thought a simple breathing exercise could be so taxing."

"As a warrior, you're probably used to feeling tension with nearly every action." Olberic nods to this, folding his arms as he intently listens to what knowledge Shiro seeks to impart. "You'll find that, if you relax your body during combat, you'll conserve your energy for when you need it the most. I can tell you're no stranger to this, even though I've yet to see you fight; a bit of practice is all it will take for you to incorporate this into your usual fighting style."

"Practice I shall. I thank you for the lesson, Shiro." The two take long sips of water from their canteens, giving satisfied sighs as they wipe their mouths in unison. Thinking back to the training, and how Shiro opted to have the two face each other to evoke the guise of having a proper opponent, a few thoughts come to mind. ' _There was something to the lad's gaze that troubled me…_ ' Looking to his new comrade, he asks, "Might I present a question to you?" Shiro silently gestures for the man to ask freely as he takes another sip of water. "To what end do you hone your skills?" Shiro suddenly stops, slowly lowering his canteen to grant Olberic his full attention. "You swing your blade with conviction, yet your eyes…as we practiced, they were akin to a cornered beast. I would like to know why, if that would not be too much trouble."

Shiro is silent for a moment, averting his eyes to briefly glance at the ground. They return to Olberic quickly enough, though the hesitation they bear yet remains. "The reason I fight…the answer to that has changed a few times over the years." He pauses, taking a moment to think back on the path that led him to where he is now. "Three years ago, when the conflict surrounding the War of Erdboden came to an end, I had the opportunity to speak with one of the gods of my world." Olberic expresses surprise at this, but makes no motion to interrupt. "I had many questions, as any mortal would." Pointing at his left eye, he continues, "After my eye was transformed into what you see now, I've always felt that the machinations of the universe altered themselves to bring me hardship." He chuckles, once again realizing the implications of such superstitions. "It sounds so ridiculous when I say it aloud."

"And yet something tells me your superstitions were well-founded." The sigh that escapes Shiro is a telling response, as is the pain that plagues his gaze. "You need not speak more if the pain is too great."

Shiro shakes his head to this. "No, I am fine; it took many years…it feels like a lifetime, but I came to terms with this. My Runic Eye was brought about by divine intervention when I was but a lad of six years, and with it, a sacrifice two years later…my family lost their lives so that I may continue beyond my intended expiration date."

"This god confirmed that?"

"Aye. 'Tis a delicate thing, the balance of the universe. Four lives do not equal one; to make up for what the world lost so that I may continue living, needs must I toil until my debt is repaid…or lose that which is precious to me until the scales are no longer tipped." He nods, his sad visage giving way for silent acceptance. "I chose the former, Sir Olberic, but those I care for are ever in danger." His countenance then shifts to convey firm resolution; "I fight for the sake of those who would involve themselves with me, to take responsibility for the strife I would invite upon them."

"That is a heavy burden, lad."

"I know. My struggle has pitted me against a country; a manmade god; a malevolent deity, Eldritch in origin, along with the alien species it brought upon the world, all of which were beyond human comprehension." He closes his eyes, his mind flooding his vision with glimpses of past battles. Even as he opens his eyes, the sounds of those past battlefields haunt him still. "Many times I have stumbled, struggled to understand why I should continue my plight." He then shakes his head, as if to discredit his past folly. "It was all so simple, Sir Olberic. No matter what the universe sets upon me, I won't falter until my debt is repaid."

"Even if it means facing yet more gods?" Shiro nods to him, that primal desperation returning to his eyes. Though Olberic does not know the specifics of his comrade's struggles, the resolve Shiro's formed from seeing them to completion is not lost to him. He can only nod, for words elude him. "For your time here in Orsterra, know that you do not fight alone." Shiro's expression gives way to surprise, to which Olberic chuckles as he extends his hand again. "So long as you walk with us, we shall walk with you, no matter the threat you face."

"I-" He comes to a stop, his voice catching in his throat. A bright smile forces itself upon his countenance as he takes hold of Olberic's hand to shake it once more. "You have my thanks, Sir Olberic; I should have expected nothing less from my senior."

A hearty chuckle escapes the man. "You flatter me. It was not long ago when I, too, struggled with my own purpose, Shiro." Shiro remains silent, his expression expectant. "My kingdom, Hornburg, fell eight years ago. I fought to the last, but failed to protect my liege."

"Your opponent must have been powerful indeed."

"Aye, that he was. 'Twas betrayal that saw to our downfall." Shiro's expression, for but a brief moment, shifts to convey what Olberic can only view as regret, though he does not inquire further. "The king was meant to be protected by one of the greatest knights in the kingdom, a man by the name of Erhardt."

"I have heard of him in my brief travels; said to be known as the Blazing Blade, rivaled only by you, The Unbending Blade."

He nods. "Just so. Erhardt…" Shiro finds that Olberic's eyes have adopted a sad visage. Though he entertains the thought of sparing Olberic the task of recounting what is assuredly a difficult tale, the knight continues of his own accord, removing the option entirely. "I once called that man my brother; he betrayed our king, bringing down our kingdom." The look in Shiro's gaze shifts again, now filled with rekindled embers of a vengeful flame. "You, too, know the sting of betrayal." Glancing to the white bandages covering Shiro's left arm, Olberic nods to himself. "Aye, were I a gambling man, I'd bet on your left arm."

"You'd be all the richer for the wager in turn." He grabs hold of his left forearm, his mind hearkening back to the day he lost it in the War of Erdboden. ' _I can't share what lies beneath these bandages yet, not in a world that fears the darkness as this one does._ ' He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought, though the act is in vain. "Nagato Yasujiro, my sworn brother; he sided with the Empire of Alabaster during the war, causing the injury that lies beneath these bandages." His right hand brushes the surface of his left arm, his eyes taking a visage boasting more sadness than rage. "The information he had…it would have ruined those I had sworn to protect. My hand was forced, Sir Olberic; Nagato lives no longer."

"I see. Though I would not expect amends to be so easily made, it is lamentable all the same that you had to end his life." He thinks to his recent reunion with Erhardt, to the people they saved and the spontaneous duel that followed their heroism. "I met Erhardt in battle recently; I learned that his betrayal was meant to fuel a need for revenge, and that he was left without purpose once it was sated."

"Does Sir Erhardt yet live?"

"Aye, that he does, and with purpose reborn. My journey started with Erhardt as the goal, but now I must head to Riverford. There resides the man who plotted the fall of Hornburg, the one who had given Erhardt his position so close to the king. He must know justice for his deeds, and I his reasons in turn."

"If memory serves, that is clear on the other side of the continent."

"Just so. Before I can head there, however, there are yet more locales to visit for my comrades." A moment is taken to recall who is ahead of him in the unspoken queue. "Young Tressa is up first; her Merchant's Fair is in Grandport to the east. On the way back, we will visit Goldshore for Ophilia's pilgrimage, as well as Alfyn's quest in honing his skills as an Apothecary." The sound of approaching footsteps breaks his train of thought, prompting both he and Shiro to look to the pair of Therese and Cyrus.

The former of the two is the first to speak. "I hope we're not interrupting." Shiro and Olberic shake their heads to this, granting the young scholar the freedom to continue. "OK. Shiro? The professor and I were just talking, and…I want to keep traveling with this group, at least until it passes through Atlasdam." Shiro nods to this, saying nothing. "You're…OK with that?"

"Traveling with this group simply means you'll be in my care again; it changes nothing."

"I- Yes, yes, you're absolutely right. I'll be counting on you…"

Looking to Cyrus, Shiro asks, "When do we plan to depart?"

"The others are packing as we speak."

"…oh." He hurries over to Therese, gently grabbing hold of her hand. "We should make haste and do the same, milady."

"Eh? But we never unpacked anything?" Shiro gently pulls her along, presenting some sort of comment on being thorough. Therese sighs at this. "Why can't you just admit that you're worried about leaving something behind?" Shiro says nothing, his face turning red at the all too true accusation. He dares not turn to face her, lest she, Cyrus, and Olberic see him brought low. The party is on the road soon after the packing is complete, returning to the North Stonegard Pass to make way towards a branch Shiro and Therese once passed up. To the north of their current location is a path that leads down from the Highlands into a section of the Coastlands known as Moonstruck Coast.

The once thin air of the Highlands gradually returns to its usual levels, allowing the travelers to breathe more easily. In turn, the salty scent and taste of the sea breeze brings a smile to Tressa's face. The immediate area is still craggy in its structure, with a large body of water just beyond the cliff face. A moment of respite is allotted for the party to stand together and take in the sight. A cool, refreshing breeze blows through the area as a supplementary reward, one the group is all too ready to accept as it arrives. Content with their respite, the travelers set to move on, only to stop upon bearing witness to a peculiar sight standing to bar the path ahead.

Standing just before the craggy road transitions into a sandy beach is an individual clad in light blue and silver armor that glitters in the morning sunlight. A burgonet helmet tops the individual's head, obscuring all facial features. Embedded in the ground in front of the individual is a shield whose accompanying sword rests within its scabbard, which is integrated directly into the shield itself. The face of the shield, as reflective as a mirror, sports a number of scratches accrued from the number of blades it has deflected during its time of service. The figure's cape billows on the soft breeze, revealing that, upon its back, is the depiction of a black dragon rising to the heavens.

The figure stands motionless until Shiro steps forward, prompting a raise of the head. For a moment, the two stare at each other in silence, creating a tension on the air that causes Therese to look among the faces of her other companions. To her surprise, as well as her growing concern, the other eight travelers now sport serious expressions, with some of them readying their hands at their weapons. She turns her attention back to Shiro, who doesn't appear to be ready to draw his katana; for reasons Therese cannot explain, this only brings greater worry to her.

Breaking the silence, the armored figure speaks, revealing the voice of a man presumably as old as Olberic. "Curious garments you bear, Runic Calamity, and yet you can never truly disguise yourself, not so long as you bear that eye."

"The same could be said of you, Sir Donovan; if you were going to follow me to another world, I would have at least expected you to change your armor." He folds his arms, continuing to stare this individual down with his usual poker face. "I'd gamble that, if you're here, the other three remaining members of the Alabaster royal guard are present in turn."

A chuckle sounds from the helm. "The Scarlet Dragoon would bless you for the wager, too."

"Did Empe- no…did the former Emperor Julius put you up to this?"

"My liege has no involvement in this matter." A scoff escapes his helmet next, laced with contempt. "Can't say I understand you, lad; if you were going to concern yourself with his Highness after the war's completion, you should have had better sense than to spare his life." Shiro's straight-faced expression breaks, giving way to a momentary visage tinged with pain and perhaps regret. "Hindsight is 20/20, they often say."

Shiro shakes his head, though not to the latter notion. "I had my reasons for letting that man live, but I suppose none of that matters at the moment." Regaining his composure, he shades his eyes into a glare as he asks, "I don't suppose I can ask you to give up your plight and go home?"

Donovan lifts his shield from the sands, drawing his sword in turn. As he does so, the sound of humming reverberates through the area, causing the discerning eyes of Therion, Cyrus, and H'aanit to scan about for the source. Their collective gaze eventually falls upon Donovan's shield, from which the humming indeed originates. The hum is soon accompanied by whirring, suggesting that there is more to the shield than they readily understand. The armor-clad knight spreads into a battle stance, gazing with eyes of fury at Shiro; though his eyes are thoroughly hidden by his helmet, the hatred that beams from them is unmistakable, felt even by Therese.

"This is a fight I will not walk away from, you calamitous beast."

"Yeah, I figured as much."

He watches as Shiro places his right hand over his chest; blue lights appear around his form before dispersing in a flash. "You're the praying type now, are you?"

Opening his eyes to meet the gaze of his opponent, Shiro's expression is retained as he replies, "Something like that, yes." He feels the blessing of the Thunderblade grant him new power. ' _My physical strength appears to have increased, and I can wield my sword and spear freely._ ' He heaves a brief sigh, slipping into his battle stance in turn. ' _I guess it's like the World of Odyssey; I can't equip anything not tied to my active class or subclass, even when outside of combat. I really should consider asking the gods why such rules exist one of these days…_ ' Scanning over Donovan with his Runic Eye, he gleans valuable information. ' _He's…lost his immunity to Light? He now boasts a weakness to Katana, Spears, Lightning, and Darkness; I guess this world alters one's affinities to adapt the afflicted to the world's rules._ '

As Shiro adopts his counter stance via Mirror Moon, Therese takes note that Ophilia, Alfyn, and Olberic are motioning towards the battlefield. Her worries for her escort's safety are momentarily put to the side by the sight, though now another matter brings concern. ' _Why does this knight address Shiro with such harsh monikers?_ '

Shiro turns to see his allies rushing to his side. "Please stay back!" The others halt at this, much to his relief. "His weapons are too destructive for the uninitia-" He stops as he raises the scabbard of his katana to block an oncoming sword strike aimed for the crown of his head. He does not turn to fully face his foe, allowing his allies to see the hateful glare in his eyes as he raises his head. He grants a sideways glance to the towering knight behind him, meeting the unseen spiteful glare with his own.

"You've some cheek turning your back to an opponent." He raises his shield, which begins to hum and whir with even greater speed than before.

Shiro's eyes widen at the sight. ' _Did he charge the shield beforehand?!_ ' Strength surges into his left arm as he pushes upwards to disrupt his opponent's stance. Though this action grants Shiro enough of a berth to ready himself for the downward shield thrust to follow, he has no room to dodge it. Donovan adjusts his arm, slipping through Shiro's guard so that he may freely drive the shield into the man's stomach. The wind is knocked out of his foe, eliciting a visible and pronounced expression of pain that causes the onlookers' eyes to widen in terror.

The attack is not yet finished, for next follows a motion of Donovan's shield arm, which causes the outer edges of the shield to detach, revealing an interior composed of turning gears and phials loaded with what looks to be liquidized aether. Cyrus' studious gaze catches the most of the inner mechanisms, though he is met with a myriad of questions he is hardly prepared to answer. ' _What on earth has he done to that shield?!_ ' The detached edges surge forward into Shiro's torso before a phial's contents can be seen being drained into those very same edges. Not a second can pass before the edges glow white, followed by a burst of light that elicits a cry of pain from Shiro before he is sent rocketing away from Donovan's location, crashing into a large boulder that his impact leaves an impression on. "By the gods…"

To everyone's surprise, Shiro maintains his footing as he slides down from the boulder, though it is notable that he must hold fast to the boulder with his left hand so that he might brace himself. Surprising still is his effort to continue fighting, silently shown by the red aetherial flames encompassing his form. The blood trailing down both sides of his mouth suggests that some degree of internal damage was suffered, but he hasn't the luxury of mending his wounds. He clicks his katana out of its sheath, causing grayish flames to briefly engulf Donovan. These flames deal no damage, instead suppressing the victim's spirit so that he can't muster as much strength as before.

A cloud of purple smoke begins to form at Donovan's feet, though no one else seems to react to it. Shiro can see it, gritting his teeth at the sight. ' _Now what fresh Hell is this?!_ ' Conjuring the red aetherial flame again, he motions to push himself away from the boulder he slammed into. ' _I need to focus on surviving whatever he's planning._ ' He watches as Donovan returns his sword to its scabbard, following up with the act of the shield morphing to combine with its accompanying partner; this forms a great sword, one whose blade is glowing white, presumably with energy from another emptied phial. ' _Oh, so you're pissing in my cereal now; lovely._ ' Despite his wounds, Shiro rushes to meet his opponent head on, a decision that elicits cries of distress from his comrades. Donovan swings his blade down, a roar of anger escaping his throat as the light of his sword shines brighter than before.

In a moment caught only by Therion and H'aanit, Shiro seems to split into five copies, with the one taking the hit from Donovan's strike disappearing upon making contact with the glowing blade. As the blade makes contact with the ground, it sends forth a tall ray of light that travels towards the same boulder Shiro was just pressed against, destroying it completely. When the light fades, the path it traveled is visibly razed; the craggy ground has been split in twain, with the sands violently parted. ' _Wait…did I miss?!_ ' He quickly separates his sword & shield to raise the latter to defend against an attack he senses from above.

Shiro slams upon him, meeting Donovan's shield with a spear. Donovan makes an effort to create distance between the two in order to fiddle with his shield, an act that grants Shiro a moment to consume an energizing pomegranate. Steam vents from portions of Donovan's shield, indicating a need to trigger a cool down after making use of that powerful attack. Shiro takes the next opportunity to engulf his form in red aetherial flames to reestablish the effects of Mirror Moon. Donovan charges in for a sword strike, only for his target to take a step back as he seemingly splits into five copies once again. Anticipating a counter from his flanks, he assumes a stance where he covers both; his shield is thrust to his left while the sword is held out to his right.

His actions are for naught, for Shiro reappears behind him to thrust his spear into the man's armor. Feeling the spear piercing his flesh, Donovan lunges forward to avoid being stabbed in the vitals, spinning on his heels to bring Shiro back into view. ' _Good, that shook him up; I should be able to break through his defenses with one good hit._ ' To this end, he taps the bottom of his spear to the ground below, bestowing upon himself the effects of Hawk Eye.

Therion glances to H'aanit as he asks, "Hey, H'aanit, you see what Shiro's getting at too, right?"

She nods, keeping her gaze on the battlefield. "Aye. He is combining the effects of Flowing Tide with that strange new ability to keepen his foe from landing any clean strikes." She shades her gaze into a glare that expresses both concern and intrigue. "I feare that Shiro doth put too much focus on his offense; he requires healing."

Dodging a shield bash, Shiro steps into Donovan's guard. Stabbing his spear into the ground, he propels himself forward, using the weapon as a grounding foundation, to deliver a rising kick to Donovan's chin. The pain induced by this attack leaves the armored knight defenseless. He seems to dance around his spear before returning to the ground, causing Primrose, Tressa, and Ophilia to arch their eyebrows as they point underhandedly at the sight. Before any questions can be vocalized, however, a roar escapes Shiro's throat, taking all but Alfyn, Therion, and H'aanit by surprise as the man is engulfed in aetherial blue and green flames.

His spear disappears in a flash of purple energy as he draws his katana. As he sinks into a stance, the blade of his weapon dons a soft pink glow that none of his companions have seen before. Shiro's voice once again assumes its harsh primal tone as he shouts, "Give your soul unto the Behemoth!" He then charges forward, thrusting his blade into the chest of his foe. He pushes the blade farther, knowing that the initial thrust only managed to penetrate the armor. As the blade begins to dig into Donovan's flesh, everyone can see that pink energy is starting to flow from the wound.

Shiro removes his blade, putting slight distance between himself and his opponent. The pink energy continues to flow from Donovan's wound, causing the man to let out a cry of agony; this energy finds itself drawn to the blade of Shiro's katana, soon ceasing. Donovan's cries cease in turn, but he clutches at his wound, unable to pick himself up due to the pain that wracks his form. Shiro sheathes his weapon, causing a burst of pink energy to envelop his body. He heaves a sigh of relief as he turns his eyes to his opponent. When it appears that Donovan is going to rise and continue the engagement, he elects to charge forward and end the battle outright.

For his trouble, he is struck to the ground by something he didn't sense. He quickly recovers, finding that Donovan has been swept from the battlefield by a dragon. A second human enters his view, one who keeps protective watch over the armored knight at its side. Shiro engulfs his form in aetherial yellow flames, cursing that he doesn't have enough leftover reserves to boost to his peak. Regardless, he draws his bow, pulling a yellow arrow from his quiver. The arrow is loosed, flying straight to its target; however, it is intercepted by a spear of light, causing the arrow to trigger its violent explosion out of its target's range. There is no time to prep another shot, for the dragon, as well as its passengers, disappear amongst the clouds.

Therese rushes over to Shiro before the others, calling out to assess his injuries. He turns as she kneels beside him, frantically looking over his form. "These injuries are serious; can you stand?" He does so with ease, seemingly in no need of further support. "You can't possibly be alright after all of that. Pray, drop the façade and tell me where you're in pain."

"I'm certainly injured, yes, but this is something I'm used to." The rest of his allies reach him, with Ophilia and Alfyn both wearing serious expressions as they ready their means of addressing his injuries. "I'm glad you're all unharmed." Looking over everyone's faces, he can only see a collection of concerned countenances. "I…I'm sorry about that; now that I know what I'm going to be up against, I owe the lot of you an explanation."

* * *

Author's Notes: _There was a fair deal of framework to cover, necessitating three Boss Battles be so close together, but things should slow down a bit in the coming chapters, allowing for general character interaction._

 **Illusion Step** : Reduce the Accuracy of all foes for 2 Turns. ( _Active Skill_ )  
 **Aspir Strike** : Strike a single foe with a katana, and recover 5% of the damage dealt as SP. ( _Active Skill_ )  
 **Honed Blade** : Increases the damage of standard attacks performed by the equipping character. ( _Support Skill_ )


	6. Pledged Revenge

Author's Notes: _I believe this is the first time I've had so much trouble writing a piece that it needed to be written twice. Here's hoping it pays off._

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Pledged Revenge**

Knowing full well that resistance and bartering would be equally futile, Shiro heaves a sigh before removing the clothing that covers his upper body. He hands these robes to Therese and then takes a seat upon a flat boulder so that Ophilia and Alfyn may inspect him. The two healers in question look upon his form with expressions likening to astonishment. Shiro chuckles at this. "Yeah, my clothes cover my figure pretty well, I must admit." He then gets another look at his other comrades, noting that even Olberic and H'aanit share in the collective surprise. "You guys aren't staring at my abs…are you?" He looks down to find that the wounds caused by Donovan's shield stabbing into his flesh are being mended by purple threads. ' _That's…that's weird. Normally I feel the effects when you're healing me, Lord Wrath._ '

A distorted male voice sounds through the Wanderer's head, one that he has grown used to hearing over the past decade. ' _ **Curious indeed, considering the darkness of this world is roughly on par with that of Erdboden…I wouldn't call these wounds insignificant either.**_ ' The voice speaks with concern, though his personal jab does not go unnoticed.

Alfyn takes a step back, quickly realizing this is out of his usual element. "Well shucks." He takes a knee to facilitate the act of sifting through his medicine bag. "I've never treated a magical injury before; I reckon I'm gonna need some purifying dust for this one."

Ophilia leans in close to study Shiro's wounds, her eyes fearfully scanning for the source of the threads. "This is worrisome." She looks up to Shiro, still fearful, but maintaining an outwardly calm countenance to avoid alarming him. "Your body is being affected by dark magic, but I can't trace the source." She looks about the area, even closing her eyes to better read the air for any lingering traces of magic. She shakes her head, having found nothing. "Did you have a run-in with a dark magic user before you met us? I need you to be honest with me, Shiro."

He nods to her, his expression showing no real sign of concern for his personal health. "I am the source of the magic, Sister Ophilia." The expression that forms on her face in response to this is a strange mixture of confusion and astonishment. She motions to voice a need for clarification, but no words escape her throat. Shiro sighs at this, adopting a forlorn expression. "I had hoped this matter would not actually need to be brought up." Looking to his allies, he follows, "Back home, I wield every element of magic, barring light; the element of darkness, while inherently dangerous, is not inherently evil as it seems to be here in Orsterra."

Cyrus' eyes adopt their inquisitive gleam at this revelation. "Truly? That is a fascinating distinction. In our world, dark magic is attributed to Galdera, the 13th god who was sealed away by the other 12."

"Does that have anything to do with why Galdera doesn't have a shrine, or a Job Class associated with him?"

"An excellent observation, my good lad! The Fallen God's power is too great, too unstable for mortals to handle. While it remains unconfirmed if Galdera lacks a shrine, if said shrine once existed and has since been destroyed, or if his shrine yet stands but is kept secret, the one consistent factor is that those who would try to add his power to their own…meet with terrible fates."

Ophilia asks, "If the element of darkness is inherently dangerous in your world, why do you wield it so freely?"

"Dangerous though it may be, my ability to wield dark magic is ultimately what saved my world from certain annihilation." He pauses, not sure how to explain this matter. "Just as denizens in your world have weapons and elements from which they take additional damage, so too do the denizens of Erdboden. We, however, boast resistances of varying degrees." Gesturing to himself, he says, "In Erdboden, I am weak to Fire and Light; I resist Ice…and absorb Darkness."

Ophilia found herself at a loss for words. "Absorb?" Shiro nods to her. "I've never heard of such a thing."

"In this world, Axes are added as a third weakness for me; not surprising in hindsight." He chuckles to himself, though the others do not understand why. "Absorption of any given element is incredibly rare in Erdboden, especially when that affinity is natural-born. In my case, my ability to absorb Darkness is the result of a birth defect, and in exchange for this boon, I boast a rare natural weakness to Light." His gaze turns solemn as another pause befalls him. "I…also cannot wield Light Magic in any capacity. Any attempts to do so will result in the spell backfiring, failing to yield whatever result it was meant to."

Alfyn asks, "Does that…extend to other worlds?"

"Aye, Doctor Greengrass. Be it here or the World of Odyssey, the light remains closed off to me." Olberic motions to ask a question, but refrains; having caught sight of this, Shiro shakes his head. "Ask freely, my friend."

"Then I shall voice this concern plain. Does your Runic Eye serve to remedy a portion of that birth defect?" Shiro nods to this. "I suspected as much."

"Darkness and Light are outlier elements; humans can only handle so much of either, requiring an ever present balance of the two. I had an excess of Darkness, which was slowly killing me as it caused the aether within me to swirl out of control." He shrugs, heaving a sigh in turn. "Absorption is fine for any of the other four, but with these two, you're best off only going as high as Nullification." He looks to the open palm of his right hand before summoning a flame to it via magic. He passes the dancing ember between his hands before channeling dark magic into it, turning the flame from its shimmering red to a foreboding black. The eyes of his comrades widen in terror, with Ophilia recoiling outright. "S- Sister Ophilia? Is something amiss? You look ill."

Her voice is but a whisper, shackled in fear, but still pushing beyond its confinements so that she might save her comrade from what she believes to be a danger beyond his comprehension. "Shiro, that is the accursed flame dancing between your hands…that…that is the very power the professor just spoke of."

Shiro looks to the flame, and then back to Ophilia. A bewildered countenance overtakes him. He promptly disperses the flame he conjured, if only to quell some of the fear dwelling within his comrade. "I can assure you that the darkness I wield is my own; the Galdera I've read of has not extended his reach to me." Another chuckle escapes him as he rises to his feet. "There is only one god of darkness I barter with." He puts his clothes back on, securing his kimono; turning back to the path, he can see a large tent sporting blue and white stripes in the distance. "Might I trouble you all to a detour? I find myself curious of that tent over yonder."

Alfyn steps over to bar the path. "Whoa there, buster; you left a dent in a boulder, last I checked."

"This is true, but my bones have been mended…I will have to take it easy, though; the healing factor of this dark magic is limited since I…well, I don't make use of sacrifices."

Alfyn shudders, "Yikes. In that case, you'll be sitting out of combat for a spell. We'll check on ya before we turn in tonight." Shiro nods in acceptance of these terms, voicing appreciation in kind.

As the group reaches the tent, everyone barring Shiro and Therese seem to recognize an individual standing by the coast. A young man with short-cut blond hair, dressed in the garbs of an adventurer, turns to look upon the source of the approaching footsteps drawing near him. He holds up a hand to hail the group, his eyes set on Ophilia as he says, "It fills me with joy to see you and yours in good health, Sister Ophilia."

The cleric performs a curtsey, a soft smile upon her features. "I am glad in turn, Kit. How go your travels with the troupe?"

"Oh, swimmingly! I am glad to report that I might have at last found a hint to my father's whereabouts." His expression shifts, conveying a slight hint of disappointment. "Unfortunately, the direction I must pursue is opposite to where the troupe is headed. If I am to pursue this lead, I will have to part ways with everyone."

Olberic asks, "Such an act would bring greater perils, lad."

"Right you are, Sir Olberic. The impresario was quite understanding of the matter, encouraging me to do what I must to locate my father. I…would like to thank the troupe for taking me in and helping me get this far." When Shiro asks if Kit has any idea of how he'd like to repay the troupe, the man shakes his head. "You're a new face, traveler; I'm Kit, who might you be?"

"Ah, forgive my manners. You may call me Shiro." He gestures to Therese as he introduces her in turn. He looks to the tent again, now able to discern its details up close. Of note is the sign announcing the name of the troupe; its gold lettering, while striking, is missing the accent provided by its deep blue background, which is notably faded. "Hm…might your friends be in the market for a new sign? Perhaps a bit of a sprucing?"

"Now that you mention it, yes, but we would require lapis lazuli."

Shiro takes a knee as he begins rummaging through his belongings. He eventually pulls out a cut of lapis lazuli, turning it in his grip as he studies it. "Yes, this will do." Looking to Kit, he asks, "Your troupe wouldn't happen to have a cauldron lying around, would it?" To his surprise, Kit nods. "Excellent, please direct me to it." Kit heeds this request, introducing some members of his group along the way. Upon arriving at the location of the cauldron, Shiro notes a lack of the lab equipment he's used to working with. ' _No safety goggles or gloves…eh, I'll make do._ ' He removes the gauntlet from his right hand so that he may crack his knuckles, though he does not crack the knuckles of his left hand, a notion not lost on Cyrus.

Kit looks to Shiro as the man prepares his workstation. "What is your plan, Shiro?"

"A collaborative effort, my friend; I shall synthesize the paint while you do the actual paint-job." He pulls a small white box topped with a blue lid from his bag of belongings. Opening this box reveals its contents to be crystals in the shape of intricate snowflakes. He drops one of these snowflakes into the center of the cauldron before returning the box to his belongings. After a moment, the cauldron emits a bright shimmer. "The catalyst is set. Let's begin."

Realizing what Shiro is doing, Cyrus asks, "Are you an Alchemist?"

"Indeed I am." The cut of lapis lazuli is placed into the center of the cauldron; Shiro holds his ear close to listen for the indication of the stone hitting the cauldron's bottom. ' _…There it is._ ' He lines up a ring of blueberries around where the stone was placed, followed shortly by pouring the contents of his own canteen of water in the shape of a ring around the berries. Snapping his fingers, he summons a mixing staff to his hand, which he promptly uses to stir the mixture in a clockwise fashion. He works in silence, a smile on his face; five minutes pass before he looks to the side to see a collection of six empty bottles. An unoccupied tray rests not too far away as well. Glancing at Therese, he says, "Therese, be a love and take over for me."

She steps over and takes hold of the mixing staff. "I've never practiced alchemy before…"

"No worries, my dear; you need only stir counterclockwise; I'll return shortly." He hastens over to the tray, leaving a flustered Therese to stir the cauldron's contents at a moderate pace mimicking his own. When he returns to the cauldron, he is armed with the six bottles sitting atop the tray, all of which being secured to it. A bright flash emits from the cauldron, causing Therese to cease her efforts in surprise. Shiro dunks the bottle-filled tray into the cauldron, soon pulling it back out. "Another successful synthesis." He grins, directing his warm visage to Therese. "I appreciate the help."

Within each bottle is a deep blue liquid with the viscosity of paint. As Kit is handed these bottles, his eyes take in their quality. "These are incredible. How might I repay you?"

Shiro smirks. "Show me the best damn paint-job you can do." Kit can only chuckle at this before rushing off to the tent's entrance. A few hours are spent as Kit repaints the sign; during this lapse, Tressa manages to buy a new robe from one of the troupe's performers. She shoots a conniving grin towards Therion, who responds with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. Olberic and Alfyn practice axe swings, with Alfyn serving the role of mentor. Taking a seat beside Primrose, Shiro observes Kit's craft. "He has a steady hand."

"And an eye for detail." Her expression turns somber, a wistful look in her eye as she seems to gaze upon a sight from the past, one that none can see save but herself. Images of herself, practicing in the gardens of Noblecourt, play back over the sands, striking the woman with such detail as to mistake them for legitimate time travel. A soft and brief sigh escapes her, barely audible in its delivery. "I do hope Kit's father is in good health, and that the two reunite soon." Shiro nods to this, his expression gradually shifting to match her own. ' _I shouldn't pry…_ ' She turns her head to face Shiro, hoping to change the subject with a question. "How much did you learn of House Azelhart from Arianna?"

"I lack all of the details, but I learned enough to understand that your father did a lot for the people…and that you have endured much to avenge his murder." A silence befalls the two, albeit briefly, before he continues, "Revenge is a complicated deal, Lady Primrose. Those on the path are often told that the end result isn't worth it, and in some cases that is certainly true, but for some others…" A distinct look takes over his countenance, one that Primrose has worn in turn but cannot rightfully put to words. "For some of us, there are revelations that we can only reach after facing that end result."

"You've walked the path of vengeance?" He nods to her; the feelings conveyed in his gaze serve to give Primrose a better answer than words could hope to. "I can see it in your eyes; the people you lost were precious to you."

A sigh escapes him as he looks up to the sky. "The four of them were my family, milady; my parents and my two older siblings." His head is brought back down, allowing Primrose to look him in the eye as they converse. "Our home was burned to the ground in an act of arson. I was but eight years old at the time, nowhere near as capable with ice magic as I am today."

"Did your parents have powerful enemies, too?" He shakes his head to this, adding a touch of bewilderment to Primrose's visage. "Now you've lost me."

"Darryl and Denise Coelistis were beloved by many throughout the realm. The former was a capable doctor, one who contributed to many of the developments in his field. The latter…she was hailed as a hero, one responsible for saving the entire realm; she taught me what it means to be a knight, Lady Primrose – what it means to endure when you suffer for a cause greater than yourself." A single tear falls from his eye, one that he wipes away with his thumb. Primrose maintains her silence, knowing that there is yet more for him to say. "I was the intended victim."

"I-" She stops, the sentence playing again in her mind. "You?" He nods. "Shiro, there's nothing a mere child could have done to warrant an act of that scale. They…" She stops again, brought to a pause by the unfathomable motive she can't discern. "What could be worth sacrificing two of the world's heroes and two of their children as collateral?"

"Back then, knowledge of my possession of the Runic Eye had reached well beyond the borders of the Land of Mages. A prophecy made mention of one bearing this eye, as well as the impact this bearer stood to have." He begins to gesture his hand, likely to supplement his explanation, but he brings it back down to his knee. "The Imperials were – still are to be true – quite adherent to the traditionalist ways of our world, one that bases its foundation on a cycle of destruction and rebirth."

"So this prophecy said you'd break that cycle?"

"The prophecy itself was actually quite open-ended; it never directly said I'd change anything."

Primrose falls silent at this, her visage sinking into a tranquil fury. She turns away from Shiro, gazing out to the open sea as she takes a moment to breathe and calm herself. Turning back to Shiro, her hand is pointed at him in a way that suggests she is about to slam a chopping motion upside his head. The playfulness that used to be present in her voice had long since disappeared when the subject matter changed, but now her tenderness has departed in turn. "Are you taking the piss? Is that your idea of having a chuckle?" Shiro's empty gaze tells her everything she needs to know, even without him shaking his head. Thinking back to the battle that recently concluded, a dissatisfying thought occurs. "Shiro…was it the Emperor of Alabaster?"

"He gave the order, yes, but the arsonist was his cousin, the General of the Imperial army."

"And you let the Emperor live?" A pained expression suddenly washes over Shiro's face, to which Primrose shakes her head. "I…I would like to know why you gave up your revenge."

"His daughter and I are on good terms. Princess…well, she's Empress now, but Eliana was one of the few Imperials to see me as a person, rather than some horrific beast destined to end the world."

"So that's why that knight referred to you as such. You love her, I take it?" He shakes his head.

"Ellie and I don't have that kind of relationship, and it'd be catastrophic if such feelings ever did form. Lowering herself to lie with the Hellspawn her father and so many fallen warriors of her home tried to eliminate; to let that same Hellspawn stand as the co-ruler of the people whose lives he's ruined." He shakes his head to rid himself of those distressed thoughts. "The number of enemies she'd make would be innumerable. I couldn't do that to a friend, Primrose."

"Then why?"

"On the day of the war's end, Ellie and I stood in opposition to each other. I was there to kill her father, and had already slaughtered countless soldiers en route to the throne room." His pain sinks ever deeper, but he maintains eye contact with Primrose. "Capable though she may be with a blade, I boasted more experience; she was temporarily removed from my path, but not long enough for me to end Julius." He sighs. "The way she tried to defend her exhausted parents, neither of whom could continue fighting, halted my efforts. In her eyes, I saw…" Another tear wells up in his eye, threatening to fall at a moment's notice. "Those frightened eyes reflected not a man on a rampage, but a relentless fire intent on consuming all that she cared about." He closes his eyes, resting his forehead on his fist as the tear finally falls. "I couldn't do it; she didn't deserve to go through that kind of torture."

Primrose can only sit there, astonished by Shiro's tale. She watches as he wipes away the single tear that fell, surprised further still to see him sit back up to fix his posture. Though the sad look in his gaze remains, the man does not strike her as broken. She motions to reach her hand out to him, halted by hesitation. ' _I couldn't give up this fight, not after the ten years I've spent working towards it._ ' Despite not being able to agree with her comrade's decision, she nods to herself in recognition of it, and gently places a hand to his shoulder. They remain like this for a brief silence, understanding of one another despite the lack of an exchange. "You don't regret your actions, do you?"

"Sometimes, yes, but Eliana and I are still friends; she visits the Land of Mages to give her regards every now and again." Taking a moment to study the features of his companion, he can see an all too familiar resolve burning within her eyes. He knows not if his story has served to bolster her stance, but pays the matter no heed. "One more individual marked by the crow remains, yes?" She nods to him. "Those people robbed you of your father; from the people of Noblecourt, they stole a leader whose duties were incomplete; from Arianna, my caretaker, they took her livelihood, leaving her in a destitute state." The fire resting within Primrose's gaze settles within his own. "The consequences of their misdeeds span far, milady, and must not go without justice. You have capable allies as it stands, but if you'd have one more, I'll happily add my own strength to your cause."

The resolute flame momentarily gives way for Primrose's gentle visage. A genuine smile, one bereft of mischievousness, traces upon her lips. "Know that it is most appreciated, Shiro." She pokes his nose, chuckling as she follows, "I do hope you'll let me fight alongside you in return."

* * *

 **Synthesize** : Allows Shiro to use alchemy to create items for varying purposes. ( _Path Action_ )


	7. Having Momentary Peace

**Chapter 7: Having Momentary Peace**

When Kit has finished his task, Shiro and Cyrus apply wind magic to speed up the drying process. Once complete, the collective looks upon the finished product – a sign sporting bold golden lettering announcing the name of the traveling troupe, accented by a deep blue background. Bordering both the background and letters alike is a fiery crimson outline, one that boasts a faux translucent visage as the sun beams down on it. Kit smiles upon the work, a visible satisfaction commanding his countenance. "It's always a pleasure to work with high-quality base materials."

A sharp whistle is loosed from Shiro's lips as his eyes study the detail of Kit's craftsmanship. "So this is your best…uh, do you take commissions?" Kit chuckles, shaking his head at the notion. "Aw…"

The impresario of the troupe, an older gentleman garbed in lavish maroon robes, emerges from the tent, turning around to look upon what seems to have the group so captivated. A soft breeze travels through the area, swaying his slickly combed blond hair in its wake. His eyes light up at the sight, though the others cannot see them. "My word…it looks even better than it did when we first got it." He turns to Kit, an unmistakable astonishment upon his face. He is at a loss, his voice conveying this notion as he asks, "Kit, did you do this?!"

He replies, "I did, sir," gesturing to Shiro as he follows, "with help from this kind gentleman; he synthesized the paint I used."

"But would that hue not require lapis lazuli?" Both Shiro and Kit nod to him. He looks at the refreshed sign again. "My, but I had no idea you were possessed of such artistic skill!" He nods, though to affirm an unvoiced notion. He turns his attention back to Kit as he says, "I knew you had some skill as a stagehand, but this here is a true talent, Kit; 'tis a work of magic." He adopts a nostalgic visage, one mixed with a hint of sadness. "I am glad that we could travel together, Kit. Though I wish you could stay, I'll be praying for your journey's success."

"Thank you, sir…and thank you for everything you've done until now." He takes a moment to bid the impresario and the troupe one last farewell before setting off for the crossroads. The travelers join him; they all soon halt progression at the branching point. Not heading towards Grandport or Goldshore, Kit must bid farewell to his friends in turn. "Now I can depart without any lingering regrets."

Tressa asks, "So what kind of lead did you get?"

"Ah, I never mentioned it? I have heard mention of a woman who knows of my father's whereabouts; it seems that she has been searching for me as well!"

Therion delivers a dry observation. "That seems kinda suspicious." Tressa delivers an elbow into his bicep for the comment. "Watch it, brat."

Though his expression does not show it, Shiro is internally concerned as well. ' _That does strike me as sketch…_ ' Therese pokes him in the cheek, snapping him from his thoughts. "Is something amiss?"

"Stop being so paranoid, Shiro." He motions to deny such a claim, only to be denied in turn. "No, don't try to hide it."

He adopts his practiced henpecked husband impression to accentuate his reply. "Yes dear." Primrose and Olberic get a chuckle out of this, bringing a blush to Therese's cheeks.

Kit continues, "I must find this woman and learn what she knows." He bows to the group, smiling as he says, "I will pray for your journey to be a safe one, my friends."

Ophilia performs a curtsey. "We shall pray for yours in turn. May the Sacred Flame guide your way." Kit takes his leave on this note, leaving the group with their own path to follow. For awhile, they travel in silence, one that is broken once a bridge is reached. The bridge spans the distance of a gap formed by a stream that leads into a small lake; many fish can be seen flowing with the stream, with the lake as their destination. Pointing at the stream, Ophilia looks to Cyrus. "Professor, might you be privy to that species?"

He takes a moment to stare at the fish, his eyes taking on a scrutinizing gleam. Directing his attention to their destination, the lake, he begins his valuation. "That lake is a source of freshwater." Directing everyone's attention to the northwest, he says, "That mountain there has one other entrance for the migrating fish; it would be a little difficult to see, but to the north of the shrine we visited is a short waterfall that flows into the ocean. During mating season, this species of salmon climbs that waterfall, fighting against the flow, makes way through the mountain's inner channels, and finally ends at this lake to lay its eggs."

Alfyn holds his chin in his hand, mapping out the route of the salmon in his mind. "Shucks, but that sounds like a journey and a half."

Olberic nods in agreement. "Just so. These salmon endure much hardship just to lay their eggs; I find it admirable."

Continuing his lecture, Cyrus says, "This is a species of salmon whose origins lie in the Flatlands. Farming techniques birthed in Noblecourt were eventually passed to the city of Atlasdam, where it was then distributed across any location with freshwater." A smile forms on his face as he follows, "What fortune to find the destination the species seems to favor. Given the chance, I'd love to study the lake's properties."

Shiro looks about his allies as he asks, "Did you all have plans for dinner tonight?" The others shake their heads. "You lot in the mood for fish?" Linde gives a firm roar as her tail begins to wag at a greater pace. "Heh, no worries, kitten; we'll definitely procure a catch for you. Since we'll have to catch a fair haul, Professor Albright will have time to study the lake in earnest." Cyrus' eyes light up at the prospect, practically securing his approval. "This will also give Therese some time to practice."

"Hm? Are you trying to convert me into a fisherwoman?"

"Not quite. I'm referring to your magic training." She tilts her head at him, to which he chuckles. "I shall teach you a few ways of applying ice magic; fishing using ice magic alone requires precision, my dear. You'll improve your casting efficiency, resource management, timing, accuracy, and precision…among other things." She stares at him, her expression one of surprise. "I may not be certified, but I'm still a teacher in my own right, Therese." He gestures towards her, holding out a hand as if to reach out for her. "As Erdboden's Sage of Ice, I'll see to your development."

Resting his hands behind his head, Therion says, "Not to interrupt your lesson proposal, professor, but do you know how to cook?" He grins as he follows, "It's kind of a thing for the newbie to cook dinner on the night they officially join us."

A smirk forms on Shiro's face; handing a notebook and pen over to the group, he says, "Write down what salmon dishes you're in the mood for."

Therion can only chuckle at this, shaking his head as he starts writing down his portion of the wish list first. "Oh, this is gonna be good."

Cyrus takes his leave after contributing to the list, accompanied by Alfyn and Therion. As Shiro and Therese prepare to set off, they are joined by H'aanit and Linde. Ophilia takes a hesitant step forward as she asks, "Um, might I join you? I'd like to observe the lesson."

"As if you need to ask; by all means, Sister Ophilia." As if to supplement this, Primrose gives Ophilia a gentle push before walking alongside her. "You'll be joining us as well, milady?"

"I shall. I'm hoping I can learn Dark Magic from you as well, so this will be a good opportunity to gauge how suitable your teaching methods are."

Setting his belongings on the ground, Shiro rolls his shoulder and takes a moment to stretch. "I advise you to do the same, Therese; a proper warm-up improves aether flow." She does as instructed, removing her cape before passing it over to Ophilia. "I don't think you'll have to worry about your clothes getting wet."

"Oh, no, my cape improves ice magic…I wouldn't want to be caught cheating; oh the scolding I would get from Professor Albright." She giggles. "He'd be red in the face."

"Now then…before we begin, needs must I test something." He aims for a vacant space of land, one far enough away from the water to avoid startling any potential catch. He snaps the fingers of his right hand to cast a spell, which causes a pool of water to build on the ground before it transitions into a stalagmite made of ice rising towards the sky. "Alright, so I need not have the Scholar class equipped to use my natural spells from home; that simplifies things." Looking to Ophilia, a soft smile forms on his face. "It would seem that Kismet is smiling upon us today; Sister Ophilia, if you would like to join the lesson, you are free to equip the Scholar as a Subclass. Turns out I shan't be needing it for the lesson."

She nods to this, taking a moment to cup her hands together in prayer. Similar to when Shiro placed his fist to his chest before engaging Donovan in combat, Ophilia's form releases several blue lights; these lights disperse, changing her attire as they fade away. Her somewhat form-fitting cleric robes have now been replaced with flowing black robes befitting a scholar. A golden shoulder cape is draped from her shoulders, and her flowing hair has been done up into a bun; curiously, her brown gloves have disappeared, despite being on her person moments prior. She catches Shiro staring, his countenance stunned in its visage. "Do I look weird in these robes, Shiro?"

"Huh, what?" He realizes that he's been gawking like a fool, electing to quickly rectify the matter by clapping his hands to his cheeks. "No, no, not at all, Sister Ophilia; I was just captivated by your beautiful image, is all." Her face turns red at this, as does his own in kind. He rubs the back of his head in embarrassment. "Maybe I shouldn't have said that…" He scratches at his cheek. "My apologies. Professor Albright and I share a degree of looseness when it comes to compliments."

Ophilia giggles at this. "You admitted to that once before, but at least you're self aware."

"Dost thou haven trouble with womenfolk, Shiro?"

"I…wouldn't say that, H'aanit. I'm actually married." The eyes of the ladies, barring H'aanit, go wide at this. Linde expresses the same lack of surprise as her mistress, electing to scratch behind her ear before lounging on the warm ground. "It helps that my wives are all strong-willed; makes me wonder why they keep me around or what they see in me."

Arching an eyebrow, Primrose calls attention to his plural use of the word. "How many wives do you have?" When he yields the number – eight – Primrose recoils. "You're younger than I am, aren't you?!"

"Yes, I'm 21, same as Doctor Greengrass."

Therese giggles, seemingly unbothered. She gives a teasing remark. "Shiro, you animal…"

"Thou fancy thyself a hunter of women?"

"No, no, please don't view it that way. It's…complicated. I do wanna make it clear that all eight of them are aware of each other – we live together, even."

Despite the responses, Ophilia says, "You don't strike me as the type, Shiro. I would have figured you were a monogamous man."

"That's how I intended for all of this to go, but my lady and liege had other plans. The harem was her idea." The incredulous look Primrose adopts conveys everything Shiro needs to make his next reply. "Lady Gwenivere…has a curious way of conducting herself. She's of the belief that her duties as future ruler of the Province of Nature will force her into situations where she can't be there for me or our future children."

Folding her arms, Primrose takes a moment to consider that decision. "I take it she wanted you to keep your heart open to others willing to support you in your time of need?" He nods. "Hm, but would she not get jealous? We're all selfish creatures at heart, Shiro, and…"

He chuckles at this. "To be true, my liege desires everything, such is her philosophy. As a leader, she must be the envy of her subjects; she must live a fuller life than any other, standing as the example she wants others to follow." He rubs the back of his head as he follows, "That extends to her husband. If she's at her happiest, I must be as well."

"And for that to occur, she believeth that thou must haveth as large of a support group as possible. Curious."

"My liege is not entirely altruistic. While she loves me, she does have a distinct preference for her fellow women." They all shade their gazes at him. "She's taken a fancy to a number of the women who've decided to spend their lives with us."

Therese asks, "What's your take on the matter?"

"I…truth be told, I'm still quite wary of the idea, Therese, as I have been for most of my days. I told you before that I'm a dangerous man to be around; you've borne witness to one of my enemies. If people want to spend their lives with me, they need to know what they're getting into; despite all that I've accomplished, I might not be able to protect them, and that terrifies me."

"So thou wouldst taken womenfolk strong enough to stand at thy side; 'tis pragmatic."

"Oh, no, that's just personal preference, H'aanit. I grew up in an environment filled with a constant presence of strong women, so those are the types I gravitate towards the most."

H'aanit arches an eyebrow at this. "Thou doth not minde a woman boasting greater strength than thee?"

He tilts his head at this, suggesting that the concept H'aanit alludes to is foreign to him. "Of course not." He smirks as he follows, "I love the kind of woman who can kick my ass."

Shiro seems to stare directly into H'aanit's eyes as he says this, causing her to go red in the cheeks; she promptly wipes the implications from her mind. "…Fascinating." She speaks no further on the matter. ' _I shalle storen that away for later; he doth possessen a different sort of strength._ ' She thinks on the matter for but a moment longer. ' _I shouldst also taken care to recalle Primrose's warning; there aren only two sorts of menfolk._ '

Primrose says, "You'll be sharing the rest of this tale with us in the future, Shiro." Her tone suggests that her statement is not a request, leaving no room for negotiation.

Therese adopts a contemplative countenance as she says, "Your wives must be strong indeed to be sharing you amongst each other. I don't think I could share my beloved with another, let alone seven other women."

"You speak the truth; I honestly don't deserve them, but I should take care to avoid saying that aloud…Lissa and Ha-chan were quite cross with me last time." He quickly shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts of the two chasing him through their shared home, wielding heart-shaped pillows and furious expressions. He shudders, his mind recalling the pain surging through his face as Lissa slammed one of those pillows into it. "Let's get to our training, shall we? Therese, show me your best attempt at the spell I just cast."

"I need to create a stalagmite out of ice, right?" He nods to her. "OK." She pulls a black tome from her hip, opening it to a page towards the middle. The words written upon the pages emit an icy blue glow as she holds a hand over them, chanting her spell. As she nears the end of her chant, she points to the empty space beside the location of Shiro's ice stalagmite. "Ice, rise and pierce the heavens!" At her command, a stalagmite, likening more to a pillar, rises beside the one conjured by Shiro. Whereas Therese's conjuring sports a thick base and tapers towards the apex, Shiro's is more akin to a needle, with the tip thinning out towards its own apex.

Shiro studies the sight, comparing both end results in his mind. "You're certainly no slouch." He looks to Therese as he asks, "What's your state of mind as you usually cast?" The face she dons conveys confusion at the question. "Where I come from, magic is cast via communication between caster and the spirits. The spirits can interpret efforts to cast through gauging intent and emotion." He holds out both of his hands, palms facing upwards. To the left is summoned a red flame, one that dances energetically and burns brightly. To the right is summoned another red flame, though this one burns gently with low intensity. "It would appear that the principle is similar here in Orsterra."

"I think I understand. I cannot hear the spirits as of yet, so I cannot properly instruct them."

"I see, then your spells are cast through emotion, necessitating a need to interpret." He closes his eyes to think on the matter. ' _Her casting speed will improve with time. For now, let's focus on adjusting her area of effect._ ' He disperses the two flames in his hands as he says, "I have an idea of how we should proceed." He snaps his fingers to create a ring of darkness directly in front of the stalagmite Therese conjured. The area of this circle is much smaller than the stalagmite behind it. "The area defined within this ring is your casting area; your spells are not to exceed its boundaries."

' _I'll be able to see my own progress this way, too._ '

"Before you cast the next attempt, calm yourself. Putting in too much effort to zero in on the area restriction will result in the spirits lending you more power than you need." He gestures with his hand as he follows, "Considering the practice exercise I have in mind for you, you'll need to save your strength." Therese slyly backs away at the thought, eliciting a chuckle. "Worry not, my dear, for I have a remedy for when your strength fails you."

She nods to him, taking up her spell book once more in spite of the hesitation present in her gaze. She chants her spell again, taking aim at her newly designated area of effect. ' _I can do this…_ ' Her spell is cast, creating a thin pillar of ice, one practically identical to the original stalagmite conjured by Shiro. Of note is Therese's effort to slim the end result; her creation is within the boundaries of the circle, but perhaps more important is that there is plenty of space to work with. She looks to Shiro, somewhat nervous upon seeing his valuating gaze. "W- Was that alright?"

"You certainly did better than 'alright', Therese." He looks to her, a smile on his face as he asks, "Do you wish to take a few more practice shots, or shall we move on?" She elects to practice, prompting him to dispel his current ring of darkness to create another one. Therese's usual smiling face has been thoroughly replaced with one of intense focus. All of her efforts are put towards her betterment, granting her the visage of an individual Shiro is not accustomed to seeing. ' _She's something else when her distractions are pushed to the side._ ' After five castings, Shiro can see that his temporary student is close to exhaustion, but intends to continue.

He steps over to lower her spell book, much to her chagrin. "Shiro, I'm fine; once more." He shakes his head to this, gently taking the book from her outright. She takes a few deep breaths in an effort to show that she is well and fit to continue – her efforts are for naught.

"There is no need to push yourself; it's not as if you're going to lose your chance to improve." He reaches into his pocket to pull out a vial containing a plum purple liquid. Handing it to Therese, he follows, "This tonic is made from inspiriting plums; it'll restore your reserves." She drinks the tonic without delay; color returns to her face shortly after the vial is emptied of its contents. She smiles at him, letting out a giggle to show that she's in better health. "Glad to see you're well, but you're done taking practice shots." She lets out a huff in response, puffing out a cheek and folding her arms. When it becomes clear that Shiro will not be swayed, she lets out one last huff before walking towards the water's edge. "That's the spirit."

Ophilia follows after the pair, ready to take part in the lesson alongside Therese. Shiro explains that, for this exercise, the two budding scholars are to procure enough fish to feed the group, with the restriction being that no proper fishing equipment is to be used. "We must secure our catch using that ice spell?" Shiro nods to this, causing Ophilia to gaze upon the flowing stream. Many fish are present, which is no surprise. ' _Once our first spell is cast, they'll start to disperse…_ '

Studying the fish in turn, Therese endeavors to discern the best approach. Though she'd rather keep her musings internal, the notion that Ophilia might benefit from her positing pushes her to speak aloud. "We have to be careful with how we pierce the fish." She places her hands together, tenting her fingers; "A haphazard kill will ruin the flavor of any dish the fish is put into."

H'aanit's countenance lights up at this. "Mighten thou havest experience as a fisherwoman?"

Therese shakes her head at this before rubbing the back of her head in embarrassment. "Oh no, not at all; I learned that while I was at the market." She looks back to find Primrose assisting Shiro in pulling a long table from a portal of darkness. In each hand is a red glow stick, presumably provided by Shiro. The Dancer periodically calls out to her unseen companion, instructing him through the blindness generated by the portal's composition. "That's…peculiar."

As Shiro steps through from the other side with the final stretch of the table, he sets his charge onto the ground at his feet. Wiping his brow, he lets out a sigh. "I don't remember moving that table being so strenuous." He rolls his right shoulder; "Maybe I'm losing my touch."

A head topped with shiny black hair fashioned into a bob-cut pokes through the portal. A pair of red eyes akin to a faded flame stares at the back of Shiro's head, with a bright and warm smile beaming upon him. A cheery voice is loosed from these lips as the individual begins to speak. "That's because you usually carry the table from beneath the center, nii-chan."

Glancing behind to properly address the voice, Shiro's countenance brightens. "I had forgotten about that, actually."

"Know what else you forgot?" An arm emerges from the portal, carrying within its hand a tall bottle topped with a red cap. "Soy sauce. You can't cook your new friends salmon without soy sauce, nii-chan."

"You're absolutely right, Amy; thank you." He receives the bottle from her, setting it on the table.

The woman known as Amy briefly introduces herself to the group as Shiro's younger sister-in-law before returning to the other side of the portal. Before it closes, she pokes her head back over to the side of Orsterra. "Oh, and I appreciate you all looking after my brother; I know he's a handful." Shiro rests a hand on the crown of her head. "What's u-" She is promptly pushed back to the other side, her protests quickly silenced as Shiro disperses the portal in turn.

"That one's always been a bit cheeky." Looking towards the stream, he can see that both Ophilia and Therese are making progress. Their conjured ice stalagmites are pierced through the brains of their targets, safely avoiding the body to prevent unwanted damage. H'aanit offers to help with the lesson, coaching the pair on how to identify the best fish to target. Walking over, Shiro's attention is caught by Linde, who has secured quite a fat salmon for herself. He takes a knee to rub the snow leopard's head, eliciting a purr from the satisfied beast. "Quite the experienced huntress yourself, kitten; mayhap you could teach me paw fishing?"

Another purr escapes the large cat. "I shalle happily teachen one who doth wishe to learn, Shiro."

Six salmon are caught within the hour, plenty of time for Shiro to observe his students' methods of approach. His cooking station has been prepped in turn, thanks in part to Tressa and Olberic. Using magic, he prepares a bulk of dishes at once, eliciting curious gazes from Therion and Cyrus. Dinner is served soon after the setting sun places the sky at its darkest shade of orange. ' _A round table would have been better, at least as far as eating at the table is concerned._ ' At the center of the table is a giant bowl of white rice available for free refills.

A large rectangular umbrella protects the entire table and its contents beneath the shade. An assortment of dishes line the table, accompanied by mugs of freshly poured green tea and small bowls filled with a generous amount of soy sauce. For Therion, H'aanit, and Olberic, they have been served a dish they've never seen before. Some sort of black wrapping that they presume to be edible paper holds together an outer layer of rice whose center houses smoked salmon and avocado; many small servings of this dish top their plates. Shiro explains the dish is known as a sushi roll, and that the black paper is actually a species of seaweed used to hold the dish together.

For Primrose, Cyrus, Ophilia, and Therese, a baked dish has been provided. A large cut of salmon sits beside a few cuts of green vegetables; in addition to being topped with lemon slices, the salmon appears to have been coated with a blend of glaze unfamiliar to them. Tressa and Alfyn each have a bowl sitting in front of them. Within these bowls are a collection of scrambled eggs, onion slices, fried rice, and thin cuts of salmon. The onion slices sit at the bottom soaking in a small amount of soy sauce; the eggs are evenly distributed atop the onions, with the fried rice topping them in turn. The cuts of salmon rest atop the rest of the dish, with a few bits of minced garlic used as garnish.

Taking his own seat, Shiro lets out a sigh. "Before you all dig in, please keep in mind that the soy sauce is to be consumed in moderation." Everyone tilts their head at the notion, having never sampled this condiment before. "While an excellent accompaniment to the dishes you'll be eating, soy sauce is incredibly high in salt content; consuming too much at once will pose health risks." Looking to everyone at the table, he follows, "If you're going to apply soy sauce, it is best done by dipping your food into it; you get just a dab this way – enough for flavor, but not so much that rapid consumption will risk killing you."

Cutting into his meal, Cyrus says, "Two of these dishes are foreign to me, and I should like to think that I've read my fair share of culinary encyclopedias."

Shiro chuckles at this. "Most of these recipes originate from the Far East of Erdboden; they're quite different from what is typically served in the west." Gesturing towards the trio dining on sushi rolls, he says, "Sushi is the first of the bunch that I learned how to make. When I was a lad, I used to think the seaweed wrapping was edible paper." He chuckles at this, turning his attention to Alfyn and Tressa. "That dish is a type of rice bowl called 'donburi'. A lot of my friends consider it my specialty, but really, I work best with eggs, not fish."

Taking a bite into her meal, Primrose notes a torrent of flavors bursting from the salmon. She sets her knife and fork down, taking a moment to wipe her mouth with a cloth. "I've dined on baked salmon before, but this glaze is unfamiliar to me…it's delicious, too."

"Heh, I learned how to make that from a woman named Dalla." His mind briefly flashes back to his time in the city of Tharsis within the World of Odyssey; visions of a dinner table, much like the one he sits at now, return to him. His four comrades dining as a family, with a smiling innkeeper asking about their most recent trip into the Second Stratum of the Yggdrasil Labyrinth. He smiles at the memories as he returns to the present. "The glaze is made from a combination of soy sauce, salt & pepper, olive oil, brown sugar, and garlic. Normally you add lemon juice, but since I put lemon slices on top of the salmon, I went with a touch of cinnamon instead."

"Shucks; I've never had a meal this complicated before." He looks to Shiro, an awkward smile on his face as he asks, "Am I eating this right?"

"You need not worry about that, Doctor Greengrass; enjoy the dish at your leisure…though I do recommend taking a sip of your tea every so often." Alfyn arches an eyebrow at this, with Tressa ceasing her efforts to eat as she reaches for her mug instead. "I went with a vegetal flavor since you're having seafood; it accentuates the dish in a way similar to how drinking water before eating fruit improves the succulence and sweetness therein."

Olberic says, "Should you ever grow weary of the battlefield, a career as a gourmet would suit you well."

"That's kind of you to say. I had to practice seafood dishes quite early to satisfy my liege; Lady Gwenivere adores her seafood more than any other." He has a short laugh before briefly recounting a tale of Gwenivere boldly proclaiming, as a child, that she'd establish a fishermen's union under the protection of her family name. "It was hard work, and I often screwed up the finer details back then, but seeing her elated expression, as well as the expressions you lot wear now…it was worth the effort."

H'aanit elects to point something out. "While there is enough fish for the group, I've noticed that thou art not joining us." A quick glance at the table brings her to a revelation. "…There is only enough fish for everyone except thyself, Shiro…"

"My system doesn't handle seafood too well, so I try to refrain from eating it."

Tressa expresses concern over this. "Wait, what are you gonna eat then, Shiro?"

Before him sits a bowl filled with scrambled eggs and rice. Shiro takes a moment to sprinkle shredded cheese on top of the food before mixing it together. A small flame is summoned to his hand, which he then holds over the bowl to melt the cheese. Dispersing the flame, he lifts the bowl as if to toast his companions. "A dish fit for a king, my dear Tressa!" She snickers at this, with Therion covering his mouth with his fist to stifle his own.


End file.
